


Challenge Two: Give Some Fucks (Or Die)

by Anonymous



Category: Merlin (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 08:52:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 105,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Entries for <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/79090.html">Challenge Two: Give Some Fucks (Or Die)</a> for summerpornathon 2012. </p><p>A <a href="http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/79565.html">voting post is here</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Group A (with warnings)

**01**

Warnings: Violence, minor character death, implied major character death.

XXX

Gwaine stumbled out of the woods and into a military compound. He knew it was military because the building was a giant, windowless cement cube. 

If that hadn’t clued him in, his immediate tasering would’ve done the trick.

XXX

Gwaine woke to a swimmy green and gold vision. He blinked. The vision resolved itself into a very stern looking man in uniform.

“Mind explaining how you waltzed onto my base through a red zone with a clean health profile?” Blondie said. 

“Oh, that?” Gwaine grinned, licking blood off his teeth. Probably bit his tongue when they zapped him. “I’m immune, I guess. Crawled through swarms of all-too-willing volunteers, but hey, I enjoy a chase—” he stopped, eyes widening at the sudden ring of rifle muzzles circling him. “Uh. Wrong thing to say?” 

“That depends,” Blondie said, wary now. 

“Oh what?” 

“Whether or not you’re a carrier.”

XXX

“The problem,” the cute guy in the lab coat with the charming ears explained, “is that we don’t know enough about this disease. Some patients present immediately, while others go weeks without showing symptoms and unwittingly pass on the pathogen.”

“You think I’m the latter?” Gwaine asked, submitting his tongue and fingertips for mucus and tissue samples. 

“That’s the thing,” Ears said. “Your blood panels came back clean. We have no reason to think you’re a carrier, but it’s not worth the risk.”

XXX

There’d been rumours of quarantine camps on the outside. The following day, Gwaine got to see them.

From a safe distance two stories above them, he watched the infected writhe and rut, fucking in pairs and groups and using the few “safety verified” government-issued toys. 

It might’ve been erotic, were it not for the...noises. Desperate, plaintive — an agonized cacophony muffled through three feet of glass. 

Gwen, another member of Team Science (so dubbed by Gwaine), patted his shoulder as she led him back to the commons.

XXX

Gwen was the first casualty.

She’d been drawing blood from a patient in solitary. Morgana. None of the other patients had names; Gwaine understood enough to know Morgana was a special case. 

Morgana lifted Gwen’s helmet and kissed her. Gwen didn’t stop her. Soldiers were storming the corridor before their lips separated, but Gwen was quick. She threw her body at the door, security protocols automatically sealing them inside. 

The surveillance team erupted into chaos. Gwaine stared at the live feed, watched Gwen press her hands to her ears, shaking her head. 

Over the open comm, the sound of orders and alarms and marching boots slowly quieted to one voice. 

“Gwen!” Merlin shouted, followed by the muffled thump of his fists hitting the door. “Gwen! Gwen, no! _Gwen_ ,” he choked off on a jagged sound. A hushing noise, and the comm went dead.

XXX

Gwaine skipped the updated protocol briefing and wandered the greenhouse instead. Gwen had toured him here too, explaining any hope of a cure would be found organically, not synthetically.

Hearing muffled voices, he froze, searching out the source. 

Under a small copse of trees, Arthur rocked Merlin in a tight embrace, letting him shake and weep against his shoulder. Gwaine retreated quietly when Arthur slipped to his knees before Merlin, gripping his narrow hips in two large hands.

XXX

Team Science was hobbled without her. Team Military brought back increasingly unsavoury reports from the outside.

The mood in the compound downshifted to desperate. 

They lost three more patients to complications from the infection. 

Arthur cut the surveillance feed from Morgana’s cell.

XXX

“Gwen said the key to finding the cure was natural,” Gwaine pressed. “What if you’re just missing...the right ingredients?”

“We are. A fundamental molecular sequence from her model. Our resources are limited, so our best bet is a synthetic recreation,” Merlin said dully. 

Gwaine raked his hands through his hair. He was no scientist.

XXX

They brought Edwin inside because his initial tests ran clean. _Like Gwaine_ , they’d thought.

But Edwin’s virus was an unfamiliar strain: mutated, virulent. He’d spit in Merlin’s face and laughed, hysterical, before Arthur put a bullet between his eyes. 

Too late.

XXX

Merlin tried to run. Arthur caught him and shoved him into a wall; kissed him.

Merlin backhanded him so hard Arthur’s nose broke. 

Gwaine helped separate them; it was unclear whether they were fighting or clinging to each other.

XXX

It didn’t occur to him until much later, as he washed red from his hands and beard.

It hit Gwaine, with a gut-lancing sense of clarity, that his blood was an organic compound too.

* * *

**02**

Merlin unhooks his feet from the legs of the desk, letting his chair fall to the floor. “How long are we supposed to wait?”

Arthur ignores him until Merlin screws up a wodge of notebook and bounces it off his head. “No idea. It’s not as if being the headmaster’s son gives me some special insight into detention no-show protocol.”

They give it another hour before stomach grumbles push them out into the corridor. “Where are the cleaners? Where are the first years and the – ” Merlin waves at the general emptiness of the space. “ – hullabaloo? How long were we in there?”

Snuffling – grunting, aggressive snuffling – cuts off whatever Arthur was about to say. He flattens to the alumni portraits on the wall, beckoning Merlin to slot in behind. A schlop, a gurgle, and out of the History classroom hops a rabbit. Fat, grey, it lifts its lip in a feral sneer, blood and saliva dribbling from its teeth.

“What the – ”

With a brutal, primordial scream, the rabbit charges, eyes blazing a vindictive red.

Fumbling for the back of Arthur’s shirt, Merlin scarpers. All he did was sell oregano to the year nines and pretend it was weed – if this is some sick punishment of Uther’s – 

They scramble to the common room, skidding around the frame in a cloud of elbows. The air – rank with metal – has them both sleeving their noses, and on the paisley carpet, corpses lie twisted like hazel, bones protruding in white flashes through broken skin.

A frantic glance at Arthur – stricken – but there’s no time to pick up Gwaine’s necklace or Leon’s family ring. In amongst the bodies hop dozens of rabbits, crimson saliva on their fur glinting in the scant light from the mullioned windows.

“Get out!” Arthur sounds more like a general from some black and white film than himself. He grabs Merlin’s arm and they run – they run all the way to the sports hall, where Arthur throws himself on the fire exit door. He bounces off it, chain on the other side rattling.

Snuffling and a lollop, irascible and closer outside –

Trapped. Merlin looks around. “Pommel horse?” 

“How high do rabbits jump?” 

“The ropes, then, shin up – ”

“You’re useless at that. You’ll just slide to your death with added rope burn.”

When did Arthur notice that? 

“In here.” Arthur tugs him towards the cupboard, closing the door behind them. 

Dark engulfs them, stale feet sweat rising up off the mats to mingle with their rapid breaths. Merlin swallows – Arthur’s right there in all his skewed-tie glory, like the opening of one of his fantasies.

Arthur pats around, searching the shelves, dragging something down. “Cricket bats,” he whispers. “We’ll _Shaun of the Dead_ it out of here.” 

“Or we could just hide until it all goes away.” Acclimatising to the lack of light, Merlin picks out Arthur’s eyes. The displeasure in them does nothing to stop his cock from nudging the front of his trousers. “I don’t know how to bat.”

“We’re not playing a test match, Merlin.” Arthur thumps the handle to his chest. “Whack whatever moves. Ready?”

“Of course I’m not,” Merlin hisses, staring at the bat, imagining the head of a feral, blood-strewn rabbit beneath his swing. “How can I possibly be ready for a bunnypocalypse? There’s so much I’ve never done – I want to go to Paris and throw a padlock off a bridge and I want to meet Sting and tell him he’s a cock and I want to – ” Of its own accord, his palm flattens to Arthur’s chest. “I want to – ” Shit, his heart’s racing, too. “Oh, fuck it.” He launches himself at Arthur, more mouth-grope than kiss. 

Against his lips, Arthur takes a huge breath. Then – _god_ – his tongue’s on Merlin’s and his hands are everywhere.

A scrape at the bottom of the door, and Merlin pulls away, gasping and hard. “This could be our last – what’s your dying wish?”

Mouth open, throat working, Arthur’s fingers find Merlin’s shoulder and push him to his knees. Ignoring the scrabble, the swipe of paw through the chink of light, Merlin unzips him. Silky-smooth skin tickles against his fingertips, then his lips. He guides Arthur into his mouth with a hand on the curve of his arse, and prays with everything he has that they have time to take each other to the end of the world before the rabbit defeats the door.

* * *

**03**

The truck raged over the bleached bones, crunching them for the eddies to bleed across the frozen moor. Gaius would lecture him about wasting fuel, but Arthur didn’t care. Too many people had died protecting the stronghold. Grinding the monsters responsible to dust was the least he could do to avenge their memory.

Memories.

_Fuck._

Though his eyes burned, he refused to cry. Nobody would see him out here, but he didn’t dare allow the weakness. The remaining survivors needed a strong leader. He was all they had, ready for the role or not.

As much as Arthur revered Uther for saving him in an early attack, he hated him, too, for leaving him to do this alone.

More memories, bitter and unwanted.

Arthur blinked to clear his vision’s sudden blurring.

Clouds roiled along the horizon. In his destruction, he’d lost track of time—like time meant anything when the world crumbled around his ears. The storms were minutes away. Jerking the wheel around, he skidded across the ice, his pallid knuckles aching as he struggled to control the vehicle. He floored it before he’d straightened, and bone dust billowed with the exhaust trailing behind him.

His rising frustration obscured the ride back. He barely felt the wind needling his flesh when he climbed out to open the gate, or remembered pulling into the murky cave that served as the garage. But when he got out the second time, a shadow flickered at the corner of his eye.

He reached for his weapon on instinct.

“Arthur!”

Familiarity checked Arthur’s swing, but Percival slammed into him anyway, pinning Arthur to the truck and grabbing his wrist in an iron fist. The short sword clattered to the ground.

“You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving,” Percival accused.

Unspent adrenaline hummed through his veins. “I’m fine.”

“This time.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“Is it?”

He choked on the argument. They both knew actions had consequences. They’d learned that lesson from Merlin’s sacrifice.

A muscle twitched in Percival’s jaw. “You’re too valuable to lose. You know that.”

“Because someone has to be the leader?”

“No. Because not everybody who loves you died.”

Percival’s confession hung between them, tangible as his unyielding body, words surprising not for their content but their volume. Percival was his rock, always there, always watching, like today, yesterday, the days before that. He watched now, waiting as ever, and suddenly, Arthur was tired of grieving for all the people he’d—they’d—lost.

Their teeth knocked where Arthur crashed their mouths together, but the pain was welcome, the blood, too, as he pushed his tongue past Percival’s shocked lips. He couldn’t grab onto Percival like he needed, but he could squirm against him, force the contact, demand the response he could feel pulsing through their layers of clothing. 

Percival groaned. His free hand scooped beneath Arthur’s ass, squeezing hard enough to electrify Arthur’s balls, then hiked him up until Arthur had to coil his legs around Percival’s hips. The world tilted, different, new. Not better. He doubted it could ever be better, but perhaps not so bleak, here, locked within the tight circle of Percival’s arms, his ass clenching at the press of the thick, long cock against his growing arousal.

“Arthur…”

His whispered name was a plea. For all his strength, Percival would never take from Arthur, a certainty that emboldened Arthur to give it freely. He reached between them, clawing away barriers, moaning into Percival’s mouth when he did the same. The same power that held him up wrapped around his shaft, and Arthur tore away to gasp for breath.

He didn’t have to think. That was the true gift. The pleasure roared, dispelled ghosts in favor of heated skin and hungry fingers. He kept his eyes shut, when Percival turned him around, when they were molded front to back, when he came against the window and shuddered within Percival’s embrace.

They remained so until Percival pressed a gentle kiss to his sweaty neck.

“We have to keep on,” Percival murmured. “Otherwise, what’s the point of their losses?”

Words Merlin would’ve uttered before he’d given his life to create the sanctuary they needed against Morgana’s monsters. Words Gwen might’ve shared before she’d been torn apart in front of him. More valid considering the weight of their absence, the stalwart presence of the man at his back.

He opened his eyes. The tears fell.

For now, Percival would bear it for both of them. 

After, Arthur would be stronger.

* * *

**04**

“Come back to bed.”

Merlin watches Arthur pace back and forth across the carpet through hooded lids. He throws an arm out from under the duvet and waves it helplessly in Arthur’s direction. He’s tired. Three whole days trying to explain, trying to stop this…whatever _this_ is and he’s done.

Arthur doesn’t break his stride, long and purposeful and gloriously naked as the day he was born. 

“Don’t be stupid Merlin.”

“Come on.” Merlin whines, kicking at the blankets. His ankle escapes the cocoon of the sheets and traces up the back of Arthur’s calf. “Come spend the rest of your life with me.”

Arthur turns to shoot him a sharp look but Merlin’s foot continues to rub across Arthur’s shin, curls into the dip at the back of his knee and pulls him closer. The bed dips under the new weight and Arthur’s reluctance is clear on his face but he rests his head across Merlin’s stomach anyway. Outside the sky is bright, sun piercing through the split in the curtain, wrapping them in warmth that is cruelly misleading to a normal Sunday morning.

Merlin runs his fingers through the shaggy blonde hair that tickles his navel. Arthur’s breath is hot and wet against his skin, a painful hitch with every inhale.

“I don’t like this. It’s easier when I die first.”

“You’re just used to having everything your own way you stubborn prat.” Merlin rolls onto his side, sticky with sweat and come still drying between his thighs. “About time you had to cope without me. Never know, maybe this parallel world will be fun.” 

Arthur shifts further up the bed, fidgets until his chest is tight against Merlin’s back and their feet are tangled in the sheets. Facing death wasn’t a new challenge to either of them, facing the end of the world was.

Centuries of journeying together across Aztec continents, war-torn cities; of discovering the power of free love in New York and learning the quiet life of simple students in the next. They’d experienced it all. One died, then the other, and then they started all over again. Except this time.

Arthur presses his lips against the curve of Merlin’s neck. The distant sound of a motorbike kick-starting drifts up from the street below. Children laugh in the park opposite – life continues on unknowing what the two men in this room are sacrificing.

“How much longer?” Arthur asks.

Merlin can feel it under his skin. His magic. Thrumming with expectation, torn between what it wants and what it needs to do. He doesn’t answer, just reaches back and draws Arthur’s leg over his own, slotting his body exactly where it feels most at home. Merlin almost purrs as Arthur’s cock starts to harden, rubs across the crease of his arse where he’s still wet. Probably still red from where that dull ache lingers, the kind you only feel after being fucked good and hard all night. It’s not long before Arthur slides into Merlin completely, settles deep inside of him and begins to gently rock his hips. Slow, shallow movements that are never quite enough but always perfect. 

“Let’s be selfish.” Arthur speaks softly against the shell of his ear. “Let’s leave them to sort out their own mess.” It’s almost like a plea, but it’s not, cause it’s _Arthur_. Always strong and determined and so fucking noble. Merlin can only clutch Arthur’s hand tighter, pull it across his chest and keep it pressed against his heart. Says the words he always does whenever he has to let Arthur go. 

It’s time now. 

Arthur must feel it, speeds up his thrusts to the sound of Merlin’s stammered groans. Fucks him as if it could make a difference. Old English is slipping off Merlin’s tongue, specks of gold dancing across his eyes. Arthur’s whispering words Merlin will never remember, sealing each one into his skin. Pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach, rides that heightened line which tethers between pain and ecstasy. He comes with a burst of energy; it shakes through him right to his very core. When he blinks his eyes open he’s back in their apartment. The sky is grey and the sound of sirens and helicopters whirr past the window. And he’s alone.

* * *

**05**

Canon Era Steampunk Iron Man AU Part 1/2

Warnings: Heavily cracky, implausible technology, painful anachronisms

Percival peered curiously through clouds of steam at the twisted mass of metal writhing on the floor of the smithy. “Good morning, Sir Elyan,” he greeted his fellow knight. “Are you well?”

Elyan grunted in effort to free himself from a complicated casing of gleaming plate mail. “I am FINE, Sir Percival. CLEARLY.” His voice was muffled behind the face plate.

Percival reached down to lift the visor, revealing Elyan’s pain-clenched, sweating face. “You look like you’re in a bit of a pickle, my friend. May I offer assistance? What do you wish to accomplish?”

“Well it… I was trying to… it’s supposed to…“ Elyan stuttered to an embarrassed stop. How to explain in words the man could grasp? “It’s a bit complex, to be honest, Percival. A blacksmith’s trade secret.”

Percival crouched to study the metal construct. “Well I can see the electro-magnetic field generated by your body reacts with this cadmium core, creating a static charge stored in glass jar capacitors which dispense the spark to those copper coils, creating heat to evaporate the water flowing from these reservoirs, producing pressurized steam to drive the hydraulic pistons that motivate your arm and leg joints. It’s a clever piece of work. But what’s it DO? ” 

Elyan’s eyes widened and he had the grace to flush. He accepted the hand offered, allowing Percival to haul him to his feet, arms bulging with the strain. “Errr… It’s basically a suit. Of armour.”

Percival nodded in interest.

“I calibrated a lamb-skin sound drum to interpret commands based on my heart-pulses. When I exert myself, in combat, for example, the mechanism basically adds extreme strength and speed to my natural movement. Creating a “super-knight”, as it were.” Elyan flushed, dark staining his cheeks, and he lowered his eyelashes.

“Unfortunately,” he winced, “There is a small tear in the sensor membrane, dulling its receptivity. It cannot sense the command to release the steam valve. I need to increase my heart-rate to maximum capacity, so the sensor will release the mechanism to retract the armour.”

“Perhaps I can pry it off?” Percival squeezed his fingers into a seam in the armour, muscles in his forearms and biceps bulging as he applied his considerable strength to the task. 

“No, ow, stop!” Elyan cried, and Percival eased off. “It resists force – it causes it to compress inward – I could risk serious injury if you try to force it.” He looked down as the plates drew silently together, tightening around the knight’s chest.

Percival frowned, alarmed. “I fear your life may be at great risk, my friend. We must find a way to free you. Have you attempted physical exertion, to raise your heart-rate to a more audible level?“

Elyan nodded. “Running, pushups, jumping jacks, until the armour became too tight for me to stand.” 

“You are well fit, my friend, trained for endurance. It will take more than a few training warm-ups to peak your heart-rate.” Percival stepped in close, stroked a thumb along Elyan’s lips. “We must seek other ways to ... get your heart going.” He offered a slow smile as he leaned in, taking Elyan’s mouth in a deep kiss.

Elyan gasped as his heart-beat jumped – then narrowed his eyes in a calculating gleam.

Percival’s eyebrows rose, and too perceptive for his own good, he stroked a hand over the groin protection on the armour. Iron scales shifted and reformed to accommodate the growth of Elyan’s reaction. Soon an armour-clad erection strained under Percival’s touch. He grinned.

Moments later found Percival’s trousers at his ankles, bent over the anvil, Elyan’s gauntleted hand holding him in place. Elyan slicked his metal-clad member with a palmful of grease, and lined it up against Percival’s entrance. It was all he could do to hold back. “Ready?” he gasped.

“Do it,” Percival urged, and drew in a sharp breath as Elyan drove into him in a smooth thrust.

Afterwards, they lay curled together in the hay-pile behind the smithy, the stack of metal plates and pistons piled haphazardly before them. “Tell me.” Percival ran a pale hand down Elyan’s dark chest. “Why the invention? What is it for?”

“I just… didn’t want you to think I was weak. Beside the other knights, beside YOU, I’m no one. Weak, small… I wanted you to see me as powerful.” Elyan mumbled to the ground.

“My Elyan. Did you not know? You’ve always been perfect in my eyes.” Percival gathered him tightly in his arms. “My knight in shining armour.”

* * *

**06**

Warnings: dubcon (b/c magic makes them do it)

Merlin’s cries pierce the night as Arthur paces in front of the fire, hand on his scabbard, though he suspects the curse the gnarled Druid crone cast on them won’t be undone with steel. Even now he can’t decide what had shocked him more—the force of the spell when it hit or Merlin’s response, eyes glowing gold, as he thrust his hand forward in attempt to deflect it . . . too late. 

Merlin, Arthur’s hapless manservant, had somehow hid his magic for years. He had lied. And now he lies in his tent, a mortal curse upon him. 

In his breeches, Arthur’s cock is engorged, thickened at the base where a strange knot has already begun to swell. Even with the tent separating them, Arthur smells Merlin’s heat, a musky-dark scent that makes Arthur want to plunder and own. 

Merlin whimpers again, his need undeniably tempered with pain. It cuts through Arthur’s anger, blood running cold, then hot. He curses the Druid witch and the fact they’re out in the middle of nowhere, far away from any assistance, but another part of him, a secret, instinctual part, knows what he must do and, gods help him, wants.

He enters the tent. 

It’s so dark Arthur can barely make out Merlin’s form, but he hears the rustling bedding. 

“Arthur?” Merlin rasps. “It hurts.” 

“Can’t you do something?” 

“No . . . it’s too strong.” 

Arthur drops to his knees, cock throbbing when he discovers Merlin naked, knees drawn up to his chest with his hand between his thighs. The scent and the obscene slick-slick sound make Arthur’s mouth water. 

“Gods.” His own arousal grows so acute it feels as though he will be the one to die if his need is not slaked. Merlin’s eyes shimmer that same unearthly gold. 

“I . . . I’m sorry . . . please . . .” Merlin reaches out with one hand, grasping for Arthur, pulling at the ties of his breeches. When his fingers connect with bare skin, Arthur hisses. There’s no time to waste.

He tears at his clothing and is upon Merlin in an instant, cock already seeking the wet heat he craves. Merlin wraps his arms and legs around, crying out in agony. 

“It’s getting worse . . . gods. Just . . . hurry.” 

Arthur takes himself in hand and tries not to think too much about the odd swell at the base, how good it feels to squeeze . . . how much he wants to feed Merlin the whole thing. The first press of his cockhead into Merlin inflames him. Merlin is hot and wet like a woman, but tight . . . he slides another inch and Merlin arches off the furs, whether in pain or ecstasy Arthur doesn’t know. He almost doesn’t care. 

“More,” Merlin whispers, and Arthur responds with a full thrust, fucking in before withdrawing. Soon, his hips have gained a pounding rhythm beyond his control. His grunts mingle with Merlin’s sobs as the knot tries to force its way in on each plunge, mind racing with all he wants and fears. 

Merlin’s body opens, pulls him deeper, and Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head as the swell pushes inside. He swivels his hips, the urge to bite possessing him. As if sensing it, Merlin offers the white expanse of his throat. Arthur sucks a kiss there, adding teeth when he finally bottoms out, the knot tying them together as he starts to pulse.

His bollocks draw up tight, cock spurting thick and heavy in a climax that goes on and on, hips grinding. Despite the stretch, Merlin doesn’t seem to hurt any longer; he groans while Arthur spends, clinging and arching to let him in deep. The scent of their sex makes Arthur lightheaded. Somehow he knows he has always wanted this.

“You’re mine now,” Arthur says, mouthing the bruises on Merlin’s neck, still working his come inside with rolling hips. “Mine to fill.”

“Yours,” Merlin says, his eyes closed, head tipped back. Tendrils of pleasure wrap around his whole body as Merlin spills, hot as blood between them. 

“Only mine.” The words are lust-hoarse; he can’t muster anger, not when the wetness leaking between Merlin’s thighs is both of theirs and he’s on the precipice of another release.

“Yesss.” It’s both an answer and a hiss of pleasure.

What had the crone said? 

If this is the only way to unite Albion, so be it.

Finally, Arthur understands.

* * *

**07**

Warning: crack and tentacles.

**Arthur in Wonderland**

From the window, Arthur watched the endless tide of kittens gambol inexorably onwards down the street, mewling and stumbling over each other, into walls, and running through the gutters. Every now and again, a luminous white unicorn pranced lightly through the furry mass of tiny bodies, somehow managing avoid stepping on any of them. A large hare flew in swooping circles through the sky, screaming.

Merlin crossed the room to join him on his bed or overstuffed chair -- he hadn't decided which it was yet, because it looked like a snoring tiger skin rug-cum-hammock. Snoring, really. Merlin was a warm, solid weight against Arthur's side, comforting and reassuringly real, but Arthur did his level best to avoid paying him too much mind in favour of watching the window, because at this point, Merlin looked and felt like nothing so much as a large, wet sea-creature with far too many sinuous arms that had rows of round suckers running down their lengths. One arm twined with delicate strength around his waist, another draped over his thigh, and even through his shirt and jeans, he could feel the suckers latch on and release his skin in a ripple of circular, open-mouthed kisses, and he shivered involuntarily, and reconsidered his decision to ignore Merlin.

"Sorry," Merlin murmured, and yet another tentacle stroked his neck softly. "I did tell you to avoid that crack on the road. I think there must be more of Morgana's magical traps than real cracks in the city now. If I could just find out how she's setting and powering them..." He sighed, and the tentacle began to suck hickeys into Arthur's collarbone as it crept down the neck of his shirt.

Arthur debated with himself whether he should push Merlin away or take his shirt off to feel it better. Oblivious to the activities of his errant arms, Merlin sighed and the tentacle on his thigh edged up his leg. Arthur hissed, and discreetly spread his legs a little wider to give it more room to work. "Mm-hmm," he answered, non-committal and hoping he sounded bored and uninterested in the lecture rather than on the verge of moaning.

The tentacle on his thigh was nearly at his crotch now. Arthur wondered if it would be too obvious if he unzipped his jeans. His toes curled as Merlin patted the woefully constricted bulge in his excessively tight jeans, oh, the price of vanity. "At least the effects should have worn off in another eight or so hours. What are you seeing now?"

He could tell the truth. He could make up something plausible-sounding and not completely insane. He could beg off the cursework-analysis and try to sleep it off. Or he could tell Merlin to forget the curse and concentrate on initiating him into the joys of apparent tentacle sex, even if he wasn't sure what Merlin was getting out of it. It might be completely innocent touches that the curse was making him interpret as this tentative molestation.

"You're an octopus, fuck!" was what he blurted when the tentacle on his crotch attempted to suck his cock out through the jeans, and then he whimpered.

"What?" Merlin startled, and all his arms fell away from Arthur, and Arthur was really, really sorry about that.   
"I, what do you mean?" 

"I can't stand this anymore, I really need to take my clothes off," he said a little desperately, and started struggling with the buttons on his shirt. "Come on, help me," he prompted as Merlin stared at him and squirmed in confusion. He ripped the shirt off and flung it away, and then there were his jeans. He got them open and lifted his hips to get them down far enough to wriggle out completely, and he covered his freed cock with his hands and moaned in relief, while Merlin turned several colours in quick succession, red and blue and gold and red. "There are kittens everywhere outside, and unicorns, and you're an octopus and you've been groping me all evening," Arthur gasped out, trying to refrain from wanking right in front of Merlin and coming on his face.

"I'm sorry! I didn't..." Merlin had frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off Arthur's hands, but two sly tentacles had returned to hold Arthur's ankles gently. Arthur grinned.

"Don't be sorry, just stop teasing," he told Merlin, grabbed two flailing tentacles, and pulled Merlin on top of him.

* * *

**08**

Warnings: Complete and utter made-up mythical creature...stuff. Very brief off-screen animal violence mentioned. A weird sort of dub-con on both characters' parts?

The cave's damp, not deep enough to offer adequate protection, but Merlin can barely walk, is greying about the eyes already, and they're still days from Camelot.

Arthur hefts Merlin inside and lowers him against the wall, takes in the trembling of his limbs and wastes no time going for the supplies they salvaged after the attack, letting the bag drop to the floor.

“What was she?” he asks a second time, pulling hard at straps, hoping for a blanket – water.

Merlin waits a beat without answering, then another, and Arthur turns his head sharply.

“Merlin.”

“She was a succubus.” It comes out quick - flat, and Merlin avoids eye contact for a moment before looking up, brows pulled into a frown.

It's no surprise. Not after having felt her pull, nor after hearing what she'd said before destroying their camp and sending their horses flying across the clearing, but Arthur's blood chills at the confirmation. He knows these creatures – grew up with stories of how they lure boys from their beds, make them into slaves with whispered promises, open legs and wet heat between.

“And what she said -” He doesn't drop Merlin's gaze, stares hard at him as if that will make this easier. “That was true? If you don't – That was true?”

Merlin just looks at him, says - “You know it was” - ashamed almost, and he's somehow got enough color to flush.

Arthur swallows, nods, goes back to the bag of supplies and grips at the phials clinking at the bottom, fishes them out and lines them along the stone.

“She'd have taken you if I hadn't done something,” Merlin goes on, insistent. “She'd have put you under and I wouldn't have been able -”

“Okay.” The bag's empty now. Arthur thinks about folding it up before wondering what the hell's wrong with him – gets to his feet instead and reaches for his sword belt, tugging at the leather until it comes loose.

Merlin's voice is uncertain when he asks what Arthur's doing. He tries to sit up more fully when Arthur lets one vambrace clatter to the floor.

“Arthur, what -”

“I'm not going to let you die,” Arthur says, brusque but oddly matter-of-fact. He clenches his jaw, stares at Merlin again as if daring him to protest, but doesn't honestly know what he'll do if Merlin does. He can't just -

Merlin doesn't seem to know what to say to that. He flushes again and looks away, back at Arthur and then at the ceiling. “You don't have to -”

“I'm not going to let you die, Merlin.” The second vambrace joins the first, but he can't reach to undo the straps in the back, struggles with them before giving up and going for his boots instead. “You'll have to help me,” he says, still terse.

“God.” Merlin brings his hands up and buries his face in them.

Arthur turns away again, just keeps getting out of the clothes he's able to until Merlin shifts, tries getting to his feet.

“Stop,” he says, half lifted off the ground. “Stop, Arthur. You don't -”

“I won't hurt you,” Arthur blurts out. It comes out higher than he'd like. “I swear it, Merlin – I won't. But if we don't -”

“That's not what I mean.” Merlin hobbles forward, reaches for the straps Arthur abandoned. “You can - use your hands.,” he says quietly. “You don't have to -” He's intent on the armor, fingers working over the buckles clumsier than usual. “As long as it's you – some part of you, then it should -”

“What are you talking about?”

Merlin pauses with hands atop Arthur's gorget. “I mean you can use your fingers.” He swallows. “You can – If you get off on your own - in your own hand - you can press it in with your fingers instead of -”

And - _oh_.

That's how Merlin ends up on his back with Arthur in front of him, fingers sticky with come and oil buried between his thighs.

He tries not to notice when Merlin lets out little gasps as Arthur pushes his seed into him, tries to ignore the way he goes half-hard, then entirely so, cock straining towards his belly.

He tries to ignore his own prick when it starts to take interest again, uncomfortable in the trousers he didn't bother to remove.

Tries to ignore all of it, really, but Merlin's hot around him, pink in the face, and before Arthur even has the chance to ask him how long this should go on, Merlin's coming with an embarrassed apology, breathing noticeably eased.

* * *

**09**

Warnings: underage and age disparity, dub con

_"You must lie with him, give him your seed often, or else he will die.”_

Arthur moves slowly. He wants to be careful of startling the boy too soon, but it’s difficult to restrain himself. Seeing the boy like this, young and beautiful and kneeling for his pleasure, it makes his cock grow hot and hard with desire that feels forbidden.

He is so young. 16 _maybe_ , and half Arthur’s age. That, more than anything, makes him want to protest. He doesn’t. Instead he lets his desire drive him down to his own knees, where he presses two fingers beneath the boy’s chin. He lets his thumb swipe over succulent lips for a moment, before he tilts his face up. There’s still spirit in the boy’s dark eyes, flaring like a guttering flame amidst a drugged blackness. It calls out to him, urges him to conquer, and he _wants_ to.

"What's your name?"

Dark lashes fan across high cheekbones as the boy blinks slowly, seems to struggle with words too heavy for his tongue.

“Merlin,” he finally whispers, the sound of his voice shooting a tendril of spiky pleasure straight under Arthur’s skin.

He nods shakily, tries the name out and finds he likes the taste of it, that he wants more.

As King, he has never been one for denying himself.

As Arthur slowly lowers him to the floor, Merlin’s thin chest heaves with drugged desire, and a layer of sweat makes his skin glisten. His plump lips are what truly catch Arthur's attention though, and he wastes no time in plundering them, sticking his tongue into Merlin's mouth and taking everything he can, feeding the beast that lurks inside of him. Not satisfying it though, never that.

He begins his exploration slowly, first with lips, and then with hands quickly diverted to the task of freeing them both of their clothes. He shivers when Merlin is finally laid bare before him. He’s perfect, sprawled there in the dust. His dark hair is mussed, and his lips are kiss swollen. A flush has swept across his fair skin, starting high in his cheeks and ending in a long slender cock that looks painfully hard where it twitches against a belly still soft and rounded with youth.

Arthur’s eyes hungrily rove lower, and then he flushes with surprised rage.

The shimmer of oil already between Merlin's thighs has every primal instinct inside of him screaming _"mine"_ until he is breathless with the desire to erase every touch that has come before his.

Merlin gasps when Arthur slides two fingers unerringly inside him, then goes rigid when Arthur crooks them cruelly.

His fingers come away sloppy-wet when he withdraws them a moment later, so he quickly adds a third, then growls when it slots easily inside as well. "No one else will ever touch you like this,” he warns. “Only my flesh will go here now, only my seed will fill you up, give you what you _need_."

Merlin nods frantically up at him, agreeing maybe, or else he’s simply too addled with want of pleasure.

“Shhh,” Arthur soothes. His fingers are still inside the boy, moving in hard jabbing motions now, because Merlin feels good inside, good enough that he knows he needs to calm a bit, before continuing. He wants this to last, but he’s afraid it will be too good to.

So he slows, takes a deep breath, and folds the boy in half to look at him. Oil bubbles around his fingers, and the the boy’s rim is red and swollen...and just like that, all his resistance disintegrates.

Merlin cries out as Arthur roughly withdraws his fingers and, without a pause, begins feeding his cock into the gaping space left behind.

"Mine," he growls as he takes up a steady thrust, one hand bracing himself. His other hand searches out Merlin’s cock, wet and weeping between them. He moves his fist with the brutal strokes he uses on himself, but it’s clearly too much for the boy, because he flinches, and clenches his tight little hole down on Arthur like a vice.

After that, he only manages to jerk his hips twice more, before his balls are tightening with pleasure and his seed furls out and into where it is needed.

When it’s over and they are both panting harshly into the night, only the scents of ozone and destiny continue to linger.

* * *

**10**

Warnings: barebacking, the end of the world, the usual

 

”If the world ends before you’ve let me come, I swear I will fucking kill you!”

Arthur smirked from between his legs.

”No, you won’t, because everyone’ll be dead. That’s the point of the world ending, _Merlin_.”

”I’ll find a way.”

”Shut up and let me do this. I promise it’ll be nice.”

Before Merlin could say another word, Arthur’s lips closed around the head of his cock, and Arthur sucked at it teasingly.

Merlin groaned.

It was not the ideal place to be spending what would probably be the last night of their lives. Of everyone’s lives, to be honest. It was the smallest hotel Merlin had ever seen, and probably the cheapest one Arthur had ever been to, but it would do for one night and serve its purpose.

The purpose was to forget the world for a while, finally resolve the unresolved sexual tension and fuck until neither of them could see straight.

Merlin had been on the edge and ready for release from the moment they had scrambled into the room ripping clothes off and fallen on the bed, but Arthur had other plans. He insisted that as nice as it would be to come several times during the night, they should take it slower and enjoy it.

It was bollocks, really, and Merlin was ready to rip Arthur’s head off to finally get him to suck him dry, fuck his brains out, pull his orgasm out with a hand or, fucking hell, _anything_ would be fine by now!

Merlin felt lubed fingers circling his arsehole.

”Just, please. _Fuck_. Stop _teasing_!”

”We have hours till the hit, Merlin.”

”Well, that’s fine with me, because it means I have time to kill you slowly... Fuck! Yes! There!”

The fingers were pushed into his hole, and he lost the track of his thoughts. Arthur was sucking him and fucking him with fingers, but it was not quite enough.

Only when Arthur raised his head and threw some condoms on the bed, Merlin took notice again.

”Condoms? Really?” Merlin said disbelievingly.

“Protection, Merlin. Ever heard of it? They tell me it’s important.”

“Are you kidding me? We’re going to be dead in a couple of hours, and I’m not going to have the last fuck of my life with a rubber between us! I’m clean if you’re worried about that, and whatever diseases you have, I’m just going to live with them _if_ I’m still alive tomorrow!”

Arthur blinked, blushed and threw the condoms on the floor.

“Just a suggestion,” he muttered and climbed on top of Merlin.

“A stupid one. Now come here and fuck me already.”

Arthur pushed him on the bed and kissed him like his life depended on it.

Merlin could certainly name better shags in his life, but he could blame his thoughts being all over the place during it. In university it had been easy to just have a shag without thinking anything more than the size of the cocks and the amount of alcohol they had consumed; now he was thinking about the end of the world, never again seeing the people he loved most, and that he had possibly found the one person with whom he wanted to spend every remaining minute of his life. 

Afterwards they climbed on the roof, still naked, and watched the sky above them. It was mocking them with thousands of stars and warm glow in the east that had nothing to do with the sun rising and everything to do with the asteroid about to hit in the middle of Siberia before the night was over.

“I didn’t expect it to end like this,” Merlin muttered, staring at the sky.

“Me neither,” Arthur whispered, and then, “If we die tonight, what will be your greatest regret?”

Merlin turned on his side to look at him.

“Not spending enough time with the people I love. What’s yours?”

Arthur looked at the sky and pulled Merlin closer to him, awakening the interest of their cocks again.

“Not sure if I have any regrets left now,” he said and glanced at Merlin. He took Merlin’s hand and licked at the wrist, making Merlin shudder.

Closer to the morning, after a night filled with sex and mutual comfort, when the light in the east was getting stronger, Arthur kissed Merlin on the lips and whispered,

“I’m glad you’re with me.”

Merlin did not have to words so he just answered the kiss and hoped it was enough.

They waited.

* * *

**11**

**Warning:** sibling incest, consensual underage sex (unspecified ages)

Arthur wakes to a bomb slamming the earth. The room lights in a blinding red flash. Morgana’s a silhouette of wild hair hovering by his bed.

“What is it?” he asks once his ears stop ringing.

“I’m scared, Arthur.” She’s trembling, stumbling towards him. She looks nothing like his brave older sister who has stood strong through the horrors of the last few months, kept him sane while he waits impatiently to be old enough to join fight. 

He shifts over and offers her a spot on his bed; it’s freezing in this dank cellar. Just one more reason to hate this safehouse. “Father’ll be back soon. It’ll be okay.” He brushes the curls from her face. His confidence shatters when he feels the wetness of her cheeks. Morgana hasn’t cried in years.

“It won’t be.” Her eyes are wild. They glow red in the light of another explosion. “I had a dream. Arthur, it’s the end of the world.”

She pulls him forward, crushing their chests together and the lace of her nightie scratches his bare nipples. His belly squirms at the contact. He tries to put some distance between them, but she’s hysterical, clinging to him like she never has before.

“It’s just a dream,” he lies. They both know better -- when Morgana dreams, it happens -- but he can’t bear to think of that now and there’s nothing else to say. He repeats, “It’s just a dream.” He lifts the covers. She tucks in beside him like they did when they were kids and their father was gone for weeks _on army business_ , before they both got too old to hold each other through the night.

She seems soothed by the familiarity of it. Arthur breathes a sigh of relief and tries to get comfortable next to her on the narrow mattress. They’re much bigger now. Arthur shoulders have broadened and Morgana’s suddenly all soft curves. He’s at a loss where to put his hands, before deciding it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters any longer; they both need the comfort. Morgana’s draped over him, her satin-covered chest pressed against his, and their bare legs tangled together. Arthur rubs her back until her breathing calms. Her eyes flutter shut.

His mind races, needing to know what she dreamt. He stares at her, heart aching at the tension in every shadow on his sister’s face. A year ago she’d been laughing, carefree and full of life, as they’d raced their mares across the Pendragon lands. A year ago they’d lived in a world sheltered from the war.

Her eyes snap open. “It’s coming.” She looks manic, staring into nothingness. It’s like this sometimes after a dream where she needs grounding to bring her back to the present.

He presses his forehead to hers and whispers, “We’re together, Morgana. Here. Now.” He twists their fingers together -- another childhood intimacy long forgotten. “Let it end, I say.” He sounds much braver, much older than he feels.

She laughs, and he’s so relieved to see the clarity in her eyes that he laughs too and kisses her cheek.

Looking at him, her eyes soften. “Together,” she whispers and presses her lips to his.

When she pulls back Arthur swallows thickly, licking lips that taste of his sister’s mouth. His breathing’s gone funny. His body's flushed, heat swirling in his groin in a way that it shouldn’t as he thinks upon every place their bodies touch. His cock, trapped in only y-fronts, is pressing against Morgana’s inner thigh. He feels the heat of her and he squeezes his eyes shut not to roll his hips.

“I’m tired of being scared,” she breathes and kisses him again. This time it’s soft, wet, growing more urgent with each heartbeat.

He’s not sure who moves first. It’s instinct and desperation positioning them, certainly not thought. She spreads her legs and he kneels between them. They yank at his pants until they’re pulled taut at his thighs, the waistband ripping. He falls to his elbows, panting into her shoulder, trying to find his control. He’s lost though once his hips jerk forward and his cock slides against her wet mound.

She whimpers, her nails scratching his back.

The lights of an explosion fill the room again, and Arthur thrusts in, frantic and inexperienced, overwhelmed by the heat and the slick softness he finds between Morgana’s legs. They cling to each other, trembling like children.

They are all they have left. So let it end like this.

* * *

**12**

Warnings: Elements of dub-con. 

"What the hell kind of sacrifice is that?" Merlin had asked. He’d looked furious, as though there’d been something he could do about it, but their sheer numbers, the toxic black orbs that spun between their palms, shut him up soon enough. 

"I suppose it's…lucky, that its interpretation of virginity is so loose," Arthur had muttered, shucking his clothing quickly. And that one of them was eligible. The look on Merlin's face when they’d realized…well. He hadn't known people could turn that red. 

"There's got to be another way," Merlin had insisted. 

Arthur wasn't _stung_ , that was ridiculous, and he hadn't meant to snap. He did anyway. "Yes, I'm sorry it's so unthinkable, when refusing will only cost us our _lives_." The inky spheres in the sorcerers' hands had shot through with blue sparks and that had settled that. 

Arthur hissed as his belly touched the flat stone. "It's cold," he said, embracing the indignation. It trumped the mortification he felt, bent like this, exposed. He did’t know what was worse, the twenty strangers, watching, or Merlin behind him, tightening the short chains that spread his legs far apart. His breath puffed against Arthur’s thigh. The leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists were soft and worn. Clearly used many, many times before. He wondered how often they scrubbed down this altar.

Merlin's hands were at his stomach--they were starting already, _God_ \--but Merlin was only sliding his shirt under Arthur's belly, saying, “Lift up.” The thin cloth was warm between his skin and the cool stone. “Better?” Merlin murmured.

“Just, let’s just start,” was all Arthur could say. 

Merlin's hands never left him, after that. One hand jacked him slowly, first. “Easier to relax,” Merlin had said, like asking permission, and Arthur could only nod sharply, trying not to breathe. 

One, two, three fingers in him, stretching him until he was shuddering with it, both of them terribly silent, the sorcerers shifting impatiently but holding their peace until finally, finally, Merlin said, “You’re ready,” and Arthur couldn’t contradict him. He’d felt ready for ages. He was so glad Merlin was behind him, couldn’t see his cock dripping and desperate, though at least ten other people in the room could.

Two hands holding him down as Merlin took him. They were brands on his body as Merlin pressed just the head of his cock in. It was too much. He pressed back, lip nearly bleeding as he bit down with the effort, until Merlin gave him more.

Arthur knew then, with terrible certainty, that he would never forget this. He’d remember every day of his life exactly what this was like, and know every day that he’d never have it again. It overcame him without warning. The pleasure of Merlin's cock splitting him open too, too slowly; the shame of being bent over and stripped raw by this man in front of watching strangers; the knowledge that he'd walk away from this, after, like it’d never happened. IAll his defenses were falling and he felt it all, now, and cried out. 

Merlin's hips stuttered, almost stilled. His breath came fast. "Arthur," he said. " _Arthur_ ," almost the voice of a lover, if Arthur listened just right, and then Merlin's hands slid from his hips, up, up, and his fingers spanned the side of Arthur's throat. "Tell me you--that you really--"

"Yes," Arthur ground out. There was no point, not here, with everything else laid out bare. 

Merlin whimpered, really _whimpered_ , and then he was right there--there was the shock of miles of skin upon skin, Merlin's belly laid out all across Arthur's back, intimate like even his cock _inside_ him hadn't been. 

"God, yes," Merlin breathed. "You're so--" He pressed his mouth to the back of Arthur's neck and whispered, "You should see yourself. Seeing you need this," and with that he screwed his cock in deeper, until Arthur couldn't keep his moans in. He heard mutters, and groaned. Merlin thumbed Arthur's pulse. "I hate that these people can see you too, I wish I didn't have to share this. I want you all to myself, that's all I want." He drove into Arthur furiously then, his warmth all along Arthur’s back until he hit a bright spot within Arthur and everything went bright, bright, bright.

* * *

**13**

Warnings: Major character death, violence, gore, dubcon

Arthur is too late. Merlin’s already on the ground when he get there, one hand still on his gun, the other one clutching the fresh bite marks in his side. He’s smiling, despite everything, and Arthur’s heart twists at the sight.

“I got them!” Merlin nods at the twitching, decayed remains of the zombies. “It’s okay. I got them. We’re safe for now –” he grimaces, clutching his side.

Arthur sinks down next to him, hands shaking, and tries to get a better look – maybe it isn’t a bite after all, maybe it was just a stray bullet – 

“Don’t.” Merlin bats him away.. “Don’t look. We should – just get this over with.”

He’s so calm, the set of his face so determined, despite the flicker of fear in his gaze, that Arthur can’t bear to look at him. He pulls Merlin into his arms, buries his face in his neck – his skin’s already going cold – and says,

“You _idiot_ , you should have got help, what were you _thinking_ –”

“There wasn’t time,” Merlin’s voice is hoarse, shaky. “They cornered me. I’m sorry.” His arm wraps around Arthur, stroking his back as if trying to comfort.

Arthur knows what has to be done, but he can’t face it just yet. He doesn’t want to let go of Merlin yet, doesn’t want to give up on him – he wants to hold him, to keep him safe, and he’s suddenly overcome with _need_ , need to have Merlin now, before he’s consumed.

He kisses Merlin, one hand on the back of his neck, and at first Merlin kisses back,, shuddering, but then when Arthur deepens it, touching him – everywhere, he wants to touch him everywhere – Merlin pulls back, surprised.

“What,” he says, “no, we can’t – Arthur –”

“Please, one last time.” Arthur _wants_.

“You might get infected.” Merlin’s still holding his gun.

“Don’t care,” says Arthur. “Want you. _Please_.”

Merlin hesitates, then kisses back, clutching at him. He whimpers when Arthur’s lips press against his neck and Arthur’s not sure if it’s pleasure or pain until he says, “Don’t stop.”

Arthur pushes Merlin to the ground, gentle – his heart is pounding already, it _aches_ he wants so badly – and starts pulling up the remains of his shirt. He runs a hand down Merlin’s side, where he used to be ticklish, but Merlin doesn’t squirm, just sighs.

When Arthur palms Merlin’s crotch his whole body spasms. “Oh god – it’s starting, I can feel it.” He might be in pain, Arthur’s not sure, but he pushes up against Arthur’s hand, so Arthur tugs his jeans open and reaches a hand inside to touch.

Merlin writhes, and Arthur grinds down against him, desperate. There’s a heat under his skin, his whole body sparking with it, and Merlin is hot and wet and alive beneath him despite everything. Merlin’s blood is spilling onto his skin. The sensation is like a sick punch in the gut but still he can’t stop.

Gunshots somewhere in the distance. Merlin isn’t talking any more, just groaning, but he’s pushing up against Arthur, hands clutching at his shoulders, head fallen back against the ground. 

“Look at me,” Arthur pants, taking Merlin’s face in his hands. “Oh god, _look at me_.” His eyes are still blue, but hazy with something that’s either fear or arousal. He yells, body spasming again, and the feel of it sets Arthur gasping.

He sets the balls of his feet firm against the ground, and pushes, _pushes_ against Merlin until he feels him come, moaning the way he always does, and then he goes limp, so still that Arthur thinks it must be over. He reaches for his gun.

As he touches it, Merlin shifts, eyes opening, and he looks up at Arthur, alert and alive. “Hi.”

Arthur swallows. “You okay?” He can’t keep his voice from shaking.

Merlin nods, then spasms again, clutching at his side. When he stops shaking his eyes are closed and he’s murmuring something that might be a prayer. They don’t have much time. Oh god, they’ve got no time at all.

He steels himself. He takes a breath, then another, and presses the barrel of the gun against Merlin’s head. Merlin starts, opens his eyes, looks up at Arthur, something unreadable in his gaze. 

“I love you.” Arthur tries to keep his voice steady, then, “I’m sorry.” Merlin doesn’t answer. “Are you ready?”

Merlin nods, just once, then takes a breath and closes his eyes. Arthur turns away before he pulls the trigger.

* * *

**14**

Warnings: dub con (may be considered non con), infidelity, elements of slavery, kidnap

The jeering and yelling was almost deaf around them as the settled in the musty pile of old blankets. Merlin spared a thought and a shuddered at the knowledge that these might have been _used_ before them. But then he caught Gwen’s eye and his mind tumbled back to the matter at hand. 

It was beyond cruel, what they were made to do. And all because Arthur had been too busy following the stupid boar or deer or whatever he’d seen that had him so damned focused. _No, stop it Merlin. You can’t blame this one on Arthur. This is your own fault and you know it._

Ignoring the leers come at him from all sides Merlin crawled closer to the shivering Gwen and tried to give her a supportive smile. He was afraid it came out as more of a wince. 

“Come on boy, whatcha waiting for? She’s not gonna stay _fresh_ all day.” The man directed a nasty grin at her that had her trembling and curling in closer to Merlin. Merlin glared at him and, with a heavy feeling in his stomach, undid his laces to reveal his flaccid cock. He gave himself a few harsh strokes and tried to think of another place, another time. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, holding Gwen to his chest. There was no tactful way of lifting her shirts surrounded by these _men_ , though he tried to be as gentle as possible. All the while Gwen looked like she was holding back tears. 

Merlin ran a hand through her hair as he entered her. “Shh, shh. I’m sorry. M’sorry Gwen.”

He was ashamed to find that with every thrust it got easier and easier to forget the crowd of men around them. He could feel his cock harden as it slipped in an out of Gwen, her wet walls clinging to him. Merlin bit his lip to hold back the moan he could feel coming forth. He buried his head in Gwen’s neck muttering apologies between his heavy breathing.

“Sorry, Gwen. So sorry. Never meant – Not like this. Not like this.”

As he was getting close to spilling, he felt a small hand clutch itself into his hair. Gwen’s other hand moved from where it had been grasping onto his arm to clawing at his back. Her hips shifted up into him, no longer limp and submissive. And then she was whispering in his ear, telling him it was okay and “Merlin. Merlin. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Merlin.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes closed and bit his lip so hard it almost bled. And with Gwen’s voice in his ear and her hands on his body, he came.

XXXXX

They are huddled together in a small cell, Gwen curled up in Merlin’s lap. Their clothes have long since been traded out for the rags they wear now. They’re barely enough to cover Gwen, though Merlin tried to give her as much fabric as he can spare without freezing. 

Though they had both been in a light doze for the past few hours they startle at the sound of voices and clanging outside their cell. Merlin tenses and Gwen starts to tremble, both of them awaiting the inevitable opening of the cell door and wondering what deplorable acts they’ll be made to do this time. Merlin just prays that this won’t be the day that their captors insist anyone else touches Gwen. 

The door rattles and Gwen’s fingers tighten in Merlin’s raggedy shirt. Merlin clenches his fists, ready to fight them as he has so many times before—even though he knows it’s no use and always, always ends up beaten to the ground and made submissive once more. 

Then the door is banging open to revel a blond head and silver armor and the relief is so overpowering it makes tears come to his eyes. They’re already streaming down Gwen’s face as she rushes off the dirty floor and into her husband’s arms. Arthur catches her and holds her close, kissing her and whispering his love into her hair. 

Merlin gets up as well, much slower and walks up beside them. “Took you long enough,” he tries to joke. Arthur just looks at him, a shimmer of tears in his eyes and brings out an arm to pull Merlin in to join their hug.

* * *

**15**

“Need to tell you something,” Arthur whispers into the crook of Merlin’s neck. He noses through damp hair, seeking out the tiny freckle constellation he’s coveted, and licking it. The roar outside is deafening, but in this intense pocket around them, Arthur knows Merlin hears him.

“Oh?” Merlin rasps.

“Might not get another chance,” Arthur pants. Merlin’s fingers talon into his hair and Arthur’s hips stutter. “Jesus Christ, don’tmove _don’tmove_ fuckinghell,” he chants into Merlin’s neck, sprung so tightly with his almost-orgasm, it feels like he’s clutching the edge of a cliff with splayed claws, bowed and prickly like an angry cat. Merlin stills beneath him.

Arthur lifts up on his elbows to look at dark eyes and the mouth he knows the shape of by heart. He begins to slowly flex his hips again, relishing the flutter of lashes as Merlin’s eyes roll back. “I know we agreed to fuck since we’re about to die, but that’s not my only reason.”

“What?” Merlin blinks, looking to the storefront window, as if he’s checking they’re still on the dirty floor of Gaius’ antique shop. Beyond the bullet-proof window—which seemed excessively pricey once—the sea of London’s zombiefied citizens continues to moan and pound its desperate brainlust into the barrier. On the floor, two of Gaius’ beautiful antique bayonets lie side by side like wax seals over their it’s-better-to-bleed-out-than-be-eaten-alive-by-a-screaming-horde pact.

“I really want this. You. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Oh my God,” Merlin whines,” NOW? _NOW_ you tell me this, you absolute bloody—oh _good God_ ,” he moans, and Arthur smiles, nibbling at Merlin’s earlobe, working himself deep and tight between Merlin’s thighs.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he continues, kissing Merlin’s throat, knowing he can’t hold back this time. “Watched you, wanted to murder Will in his sleep that time he got maggoted and kissed you. I _hated_ him, even though I knew you weren’t together.” He doesn’t add, _and now he’s dead, so there, Will, SO THERE_. Might be the end of the world, but no need to be an arsehole about it.

Merlin laughs with a giddy little sigh, which Arthur knows he will emboss into his arm with the tip of Gaius’ bayonet when time’s up.

“Can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Merlin whispers, tightening his arms around Arthur’s ribs, scratching his nape with needy fingers. He pulls at Arthur’s hair until they’re eye to eye. “I would’ve stabbed old ladies and drowned bagfuls of kittens to get in your pants.”

Arthur tuts. They grin at each other like idiots until the smiles succumb to bliss. Arthur lowers to the crook of Merlin’s neck where his scent is strongest and breathes it in so fast his head spins with it. With a handful of Merlin’s arse, he drives himself in _again_ and _again_ , skin slapping.

He drowns out anything other than perfect friction and the hot suck of Merlin’s body, right there on the filthy shop floor where they’ve lived for over two weeks. They’re starving, having run out of Gaius’ baked beans and kippers three days ago, waiting in vain for someone to rescue them. For the world to make sense again.

Levering himself up on one elbow, Arthur reaches down between them and sneaks his fingers over Merlin’s reedy torso to his cock, wanting to watch, then follow, together this once.

He pistons his hips into Merlin’s tight, slick arse, stripping him fast and hard. Merlin’s fingers dig trenches in Arthur’s back and he flexes, open-mouthed, coming. And then, Arthur follows, careening off the edge of his orgasm thinking WHAT THE FUCK, because Merlin’s eyes are _glowing like fireflies_ and Arthur can’t-

What.

Moments later, Merlin notices Arthur’s absolute stillness and the shock on his face.

“Arthur?”

Arthur blinks, then turns to the window. Merlin looks too, noticing the deafening silence. Outside, all the zombies are lying down quietly like a putrid carpet, though a couple stumble into view in the far distance.

Arthur frowns. “Did you--?”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes went gold. The zombies are dead. What.”

“Oh.” Merlin swallows. “I’m magic.”

The cogs in Arthur’s brain whirr to life.

“Could you’ve killed’em all before?”

“Tried. Nothing worked. They’re magic, too.”

“So... Maybe?” Arthur points to where they’re still joined, Arthur’s cock still pulsing.

Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think?”

“It’s the only thing that’s different.” Arthur frowns. “Maybe if you just wank—“

“Did yesterday. Nothing changed.”

Arthur grins, speculative.

Merlin rolls his eyes and facepalms.

Arthur is going be insufferable.”

* * *

**16**

**THE RESTAURANT AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE  
IS CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE PARTY  
WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE**

"Unh." Merlin sprawled on his back on the eighty-yard-long marble bar. "Oh, UNH."

Gwaine knelt on a bar stool between Merlin's splayed thighs, clad only in his red cloak. From Arthur's viewpoint, the embroidered dragon looked like it was dancing as Gwaine pumped into Merlin's arse.

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy defines the Orgy at the End of the Universe as a raucous gangbang orchestrated by the legendary wizard Merlin, taking place at Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. This event is the only time the Restaurant has been closed for a private event (made possible due to the quasi-fictional nature of the participants, which rendered a substream of—oh, fuck it, you lot just want to hear about the shagging)._

Over in the dining room, Leon perched on the edge of a large table while Elyan, seated in a high-backed chair, went down on him like cock was his last meal. Which, given the circumstances, Arthur supposed it might as well be.

Leon started to moan, and the place settings rattled. 

Merlin craned his neck up from the bar. "No orgasms!" he panted in time with Gwaine's thrusts. "Everyone has to come inside me. Er, for the magic to happen."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his hauberk.

_One day the famous sorcerer went before the court of Camelot and informed the King of a prophecy that the universe would come to a premature, abrupt, and rather messy end if they did not travel to the actual End of the Universe to enact a complicated magical ritual. The ritual involved the wizard himself getting bonked repeatedly by King Arthur and his trusty men._

An intimate table for two managed to serve for three. Merlin bent over it, sucking Percival's cock while Lancelot buggered him from behind. The crystal goblets on the table had long since shattered on the floor to the grumbling of the wait staff. 

Percival hollered as he came, shooting in and all over Merlin. Merlin grabbed a napkin to wipe his face, but soon dropped it in favour of clutching the tablecloth as Lancelot fucked him harder.

Arthur gave up his stoicism and opened his breeches. He had just gotten his cock into his hand when a wizened green waiter appeared at his elbow and startled him with a polite little waiter's cough. 

"Would sir care for some lubricant to ease sir's masturbation?"

"Er," Arthur said, nonplussed, looking at the little dish on the silver tray, filled with a silky-looking liquid.

"Better bring it here." Merlin sat up on the table and grinned at Arthur. His swollen cock bobbed cheerfully between his legs while the flecks of spunk in his hair glowed turquoise under the chandelier. "Come along, Arthur. Can't happen without the Once and Future King."

"Someday you're going to tell me what the fuck that actually means," Arthur grumbled as he stripped off the rest of his armor.

_Because of the quasi-fictional (and magical) nature of the event, nobody has been able to determine the cosmological validity of the ritual. Some chroniclers of the time opined that Merlin made the whole thing up just to get himself a sexy holiday. The wizard was heard to retort, "Stuff it, Geoffrey, you're just bitter you weren't invited."_

Arthur had Merlin pressed up against one of the windows. Together they watched the terrifying sky of the dying universe as Arthur fucked deep.

"Are you sure this is all really necessary?" Arthur ground into Merlin, swivelling his hips to catch all the spots that Merlin loved.

Merlin gasped and rubbed his body against the glass. "Of course. Look at it out there."

Arthur's balls tightened and he jabbed harder into Merlin's soft arse. "I dunno," he grunted. "The staff don't look very concerned."

"It's their overwhelming confidence in your virility, sire." Merlin groaned and painted the window with his come.

Arthur spent himself into Merlin a second later—just as the universe ended. 

It ended again while they had cocktails and then again while they were all too busy fucking to notice.

_Regardless of the practical benefit of the orgy in terms of the fate of the universe, it is widely agreed that everyone involved had a smashing good time. The clean-up bill and bar tab have been billed to each of King Arthur's successive reincarnations, but have yet to be paid._

* * *

**17**

“You have your prat face on.” Merlin grumbled as he finished preparations for the ritual.

“Why does it have to be me again?” Arthur asked.

Merlin sighed and turned to his King. “Because it has to be someone I submit to, someone that can control me. Only you can do that.”

Arthur’s face softened a little, but he still had to ask. “If we don’t do this-- . Morgana will be able to overpower you and destroy the world right?”

Merlin gave him a withering look. “We’ve already been over this a hundred times. I need all my power to keep everyone safe and this is the only way to get it. The only way to ensure your destiny happens.”

Arthur felt like he was having a panic attack.

“Is the idea of touching me really so terrible?” Merlin asked in annoyance.

Arthur’s muscles seized, his heart jumping to his throat. “No.”

Merlin stepped forward and Arthur had to fight the urge to step away. Merlin’s arms encircled his neck and he dropped his head to Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m already yours, I’ve been yours for so long. Please--”

“--Please take me.”

That was it. After years of tiptoeing a fine line between them, of never touching Merlin because he didn’t trust his self-control, he was going to give them what they had yearned for.

 _“Merlin.”_ Arthur whispered in reverence. He gently brought a hand under Merlin’s chin and tilted it up for a soul-shattering kiss. 

His veins flooded with need, and his fingertips burned with the desire to touch. Merlin’s entire body shivered and twitched as Arthur gripped his hips and slowly caressed his sides.

Needing more skin, needing to see him, Arthur shed his clothes before helping Merlin do the same. He was gorgeous; all lean lines and sinewy muscles that rippled under Arthur’s touch. A line of dark hair began just under his navel and continued further south, drawing Arthur’s eyes to Merlin’s hard and leaking cock.

He heard Merlin clear his throat and looked up to see the man’s face covered in a deep blush that traveled down his neck and spread out beautifully over his chest. Arthur longed to chase the redness with his lips and pulled Merlin flush to him; both men groaning at the overwhelming sensation of being skin-on-skin.

Arthur kissed him slowly, taking the time to explore Merlin’s mouth with his tongue as they dropped to their knees. He tried to push Merlin back, but the other man pulled away and shook his head.

“I need to be on top for the ritual.” Merlin explained and Arthur’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Merlin chuckled then leaned in close to whisper, “Not like that you cabbagehead, I’m going to ride you.” 

Arthur moaned at the image, and felt heat coil in his belly. He let Merlin push him back onto the blanket and held his breath as Merlin languorously crawled up his body and sat just above his cock.

Merlin bent over him and kissed him passionately, biting at his lower lip when he pulled away. “I’m already ready for you,” he moaned into Arthur’s neck. “I stretched myself open all afternoon.”

Arthur let out an embarrassing whimper and tried to keep himself calm as Merlin lowered himself down on his cock. By the gods, he was so _tight_. As soon as Merlin had him fully seated, he began to move rapidly, tearing moans of pleasure from Arthur’s lips. He wasn’t going to last.

Merlin chanted softly and used the oil he summoned to trace symbols onto his own chest and then Arthur’s. The feel of Merlin’s magic brushing over his skin was too much and Arthur let himself fall over the crest, shaking through his release. Merlin followed soon after; spilling himself over Arthur’s stomach with a shout.

Merlin collapsed on top of him and whispered a few more ancient words before Arthur’s chest began to burn. His vision clouded with white hot pain, and he ground his teeth together to keep from crying out. When he finally opened his eyes, Merlin was smiling down at him with blazing gold orbs. Matching Pendragon crests were etched on their chests.

“It’s done. We belong to each other now.”

“What?” Arthur asked, confused.

“There always has to be a balance. I couldn’t have the power without something to ground me, and that was you.” Merlin’s smile was blinding.

Arthur thought was kind of fitting, because Merlin had always grounded him.

* * *

**18**

Warnings: Age difference (no underage), bonding, D/s tones, dub-con that may possibly be non-con.

"You haven't consummated the bond?"

"There was no pull, Gaius. No one I felt attracted to."

"Perhaps you've already consummated, then?"

"Sorry, no. I've not had time for a decent wank, let alone that."

"Your mate must not have reached their 19th yet."

\----  
Mordred. Merlin couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his mate was Mordred. He was a child to Merlin's 27 years.

"Merlin. I didn't think I'd be so fortunate." Mordred said. "Sire, excuse us. We need to have a chat."

Arthur dismissed them. Mordred grabbed Merlin's arm and lead him out into the corridor.

"Come along. This conversation would best be held in my quarters." Mordred said. Merlin followed quietly.

"You know what's going on as well as I do, Emrys." Mordred said, once they were behind closed doors.

"I'm not going to submit to you, Mordred. I'd rather die." Merlin said angrily, pulling his arm away.

"You know that's exactly what's at stake, Merlin." Mordred said as he invaded Merlin's space.

"It's never going to happen." Merlin said and stood his ground. 

"Oh, it will happen." Mordred said. Merlin was pushed back against the door, his mouth caputred in a bruising kiss.

Merlin pushed Mordred away. His magic hummed in the air because of the physical contact.

"No. We do this my way." Merlin said as he grabbed Mordred by the hair and forced him to kneel in front of him. "Suck. "

Merlin pulled Mordred's hair tighter when he opened his mouth to protest. "One word and I walk out of here and let us both die. Don't think you'll be able to find me; I'm more powerful than you." Merlin said.

The contempt in Mordred's eyes was evident, but he stopped struggling and moved his hands up to unclasp Merlin's belt and unlace his trousers.

"That's it. Nice and slow." Merlin said. He relaxed his grip on Mordred's hair a bit.

Mordred opened Merlin's trousers and pushed them down off his hips. They fell to pool at his ankles.  
"Wait." Merlin said and he leaned his weight against Mordred to kick take his trousers off completely, unwilling to leave himself in that vulnerable position.

"Continue." Merlin said and Mordred reached out to put a hand around Merlin's flaccid cock. Merlin's hips jerked forward involuntarily as Mordred began to lick him. His cock began to harden as he contemplated the way Mordred's mouth and disheveled hair looked as he was sucking on his cock. Mordred wasn't the worst Merlin could be stuck with, physically.

"Get up." Merlin commanded when he was fully hard. "Strip."

Merlin's interest grew as Mordred revealed his unblemished skin. His cock stood at attention from a mess of dark curls. Merlin smiled at the revelation that Mordred was not disinterested and pulled Mordred closer. He palmed Mordred's cock and bit at his neck, pleased with the way Mordred's breathing turned ragged.

"Get on the bed and prepare yourself." Merlin said as he pushed Mordred away again.

Mordred grabbed a vial from beneath his bed before climbing spreading himself out atop it. Merlin watched as long oiled fingers teased his entrance.

"Faster." Merlin commanded. Mordred instantly stopped teasing and inserted a finger. His arse seemed so tight around it that Merlin wouldn't have thought he'd fit if he hadn't known better. Merlin lost himself in his thoughts as he watched Mordred fingering himself.

Finally, there were three fingers inside Mordred. Merlin nearly called out to have him stop when he noticed blood gathering at the corner of Mordred's lips.

"You may moan." Merlin said. He then walked up to the bed and crawled between Mordred's spread thighs. He grabbed Mordred's hand and used it to coat his cock and then grabbed his other hand and brought them both up over Mordred's head. 

Once Mordred was properly restrained, Merlin grabbed his cock and slowly slid inside Mordred. When he was fully seated he reached out and wiped away the blood from Mordred's lips. Merlin thrust as he tasted the first bit of blood. Mordred moaned in response. Merlin leaned down and kissed him harshly, the taste of blood pushing them both into further oblivion as Merlin's thrusts grew faster.

"Please." Mordred gasped out as he pulled away from Merlin's mouth. Merlin was too close to care about the rule breach and palmed Mordred's cock. Mordred came with large shudders, come painting Merlin's chest. Merlin thrust a few more times and found his own release. 

Their magic quaked and exploded in satisfaction.

* * *

**19**

**Warning: dub-con**

Arthur’s knees were beginning to ache from kneeling on the floor for what must be hours by now when he finally heard murmurs and footsteps approaching him. 

The bag was lifted off his head and he blinked a couple times, trying to get his eyes to focus in the dim light.

“What is your reason for being here?” a voice to Arthur’s left asked. 

“I-“ Arthur tried to answer, but his voice was stuck in his dry throat. Someone he couldn’t see gripped his jaw, turned his face up and poured water down his throat. Arthur spluttered but it helped.

“I was merely passing through.”

“With a weapon, without permission.” It wasn’t a question. Arthur knew all of the laws and customs of the lands the Druids claimed between the five kingdoms, the paths he should’ve taken, but didn’t. He nodded.

“You know that such an act is regarded as treason per the treaty _your father_ drafted.”

“Yes.”

“And you know the punishment?”

 _Death._ “Yes.”

“You will be executed at first light.” The man Arthur assumed to be a Council Elder said and made to leave.

“No!” A boy who couldn’t have been older than Arthur stepped forward. He placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and said, “He is mine.”

“Emrys-“ 

Emrys interrupted him, stumbling over his words and blushing, “He is, I swear it, I just haven’t laid claim to him yet, I will-“

This time, it was the Elder who interrupted, “No time like the present.”

After that, it was a flurry of commotion and far too many limbs on his body undressing him and eyes piercing through him, before the hands left but the eyes got much worse. Emrys wasted no time, whispering "make this believable, you have to," urgent and hurried, like the spit-slick fingers pumping and twisting inside of Arthur painfully, making him claw at dirt. 

Before he knew it, a pointed cough from the audience Arthur wished wasn't there made Emrys pull his fingers out, somehow making Arthur buck his hips back after it, chasing the pressure. Arthur blamed sorcery. 

Emrys shifted around, pulling Arthur up on all fours, manhandling him, making disgusting heat coil in the bottom of Arthur's stomach. Emrys raked his hands up and down Arthur's back, inching his body closer with each movement.

Eventually, he stopped and leaned over, ghosting kisses far too soft and intimate over Arthur's back before whispering darkly, "I'm going to fuck you now. Show them who you belong to."

He lined up and thrust in quickly, before Arthur had a chance to protest or worry. Arthur whimpered and shook against the pain, but dropping his head down, in what he knew was definite submission, what the tactician in him knew was the right move, the right appearance. Emrys must have agreed, as he growled above him, speeding up his thrusts into a feral, punishing pace. 

Emrys' hand snaked its way down Arthur's side and over his abdomen, gripping his half-hard cock, pumping in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me. Make them believe you're mine. Do it." His voice took on a raspy quality as his thrusts began to stutter and his grip around Arthur's cock got tighter, stripping him hard and fast. 

Arthur knew Emrys was close, and in spite of it all, so was Arthur, drowning out the people around them and focusing only on the pants and whispers above him; on the pleasure-pain jolting through his body, reminding him he was still alive and would be. It was that thought and a searing-hot pain like a brand at the back of his neck, followed by soothing licks and kisses, that finally pushed Arthur over the edge, making him spill himself all over Emrys' hand and the dirt.

Emrys pumped into him a couple more times before filling him up with his seed, making Arthur shudder. Emrys pulled out slowly and smoothed a hand over Arthur's back before telling him to get up and turning to the Elders. 

"Before the Eyes of the High Magic Council and the laws of the land, I have marked this man as mine, to fall under my protection and my care, may no harm come to him on these lands." 

The silence after he finished stretched for far too long but the Elder eventually nodded, Emrys smiled and knelt down in a show of respect. After a couple of moments of awkwardness, Arthur felt the back of his neck pulse hotly. He knelt too.

* * *

**20**

There are mittens, scarves and parkas in the way when they kiss under the streetlight. The tip of Gwen's nose is cold where it pushes against Arthur's cheek, but her mouth is hot, her lips tight over his. He hears Merlin somewhere in the darkness, yelling, but the words are lost in the static in the air and then the streetlight blinks off, finally, and the shadows move.

"Not without a fight," he mutters into Gwen's mouth, and she nods.

Then they fight.

*

Arthur and Morgana find Merlin and Will first, holed up in their apartment, where Merlin's magic manages to keep the cold at bay. But Merlin wants to get out of the city, find his mum, or at least find out if she has disappeared like the rest of the people, everywhere.

They find Gwen next, hers the only light still on in her apartment building, with a generator and scavenged supplies, like some DIY princess in her tower.

And it's cold and it's dark and there are things in the darkness.

Still, Merlin has magic and Arthur has a cricket bat and Morgana has their father's nine iron.

And Gwen has a sword.

*

She stands in the doorway of Merlin's mum's guest room, dressed in thick woolly socks that are too big for her, slipping down to pool around her ankles, and an oversized sweater that could be Merlin's. Arthur watches her and wants to slide his hands along her bare legs, slip his fingers under the hem of her shirt. He wants to find the warmth there because it seems to have gone away from everywhere else, the rest of the world left as a cold shell.

He does love her. He loves her in that burning, frantic, the world is ending all around us kind of way that makes grand gestures useless, but colours everything with enough desperation to be felt too strongly.

*

The lights in Hunith's house are always on. Arthur doesn't know where the bulbs get the electricity anymore, but then he hears her say "your father" to Merlin, her voice low and private and Arthur turns away, gets out of the room before he can see the look on Merlin's face.

Gwen is waiting just outside the door. They share a look and Gwen brushes her palm over Arthur's forearm.

"Come on," she says.

*

Morgana is down and the only word Arthur can form is no. No no no no no no, over and over in his head. He's probably shouting it too, he can't tell. The darkness is buzzing and the shadows are gathering over Morgana, moving like a cloud of insects, and Arthur imagines black shells and hungry mouths.

Merlin reaches her first and there's a burst of light that hurts Arthur's eyes, burns after images on his retinas. The darkness disperses, but Merlin is fading fast and Arthur knows they are losing, that this is hopeless.

He can't stop.

*

She brings him into her bedroom, her sheets still warm from her body, and guides Arthur on the bed, pushes him gently down. Her skin against Arthur's hands and mouth is smooth and warm. She's the antithesis of everything that waits for them outside. Inside this room, in her bed, there's no cold, dry winds, storybook drifts of snow or the endless dark.

The wings of her shoulder blades fit in his palms.

*

Arthur doesn't have any hope of his own anymore.

But he will fight.

He can't stop.

* * *

**21**

“Sounds like they’re throwing a feast. Bet that brought out the fancy silverware.” Merlin laughed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

Arthur’s mouth tightened infinitesimally.

So maybe it wasn’t very funny. Or maybe it was hilarious, and it was just that Arthur had barely spoken to him for three days, ever since Merlin had been forced to reveal his magic to keep them from dying a rather frosty death. Or, OK, it might be the fact that their friends were being held hostage inside the castle – possibly by their own clothes. “Well, at least they aren’t cold,” Merlin said. Arthur didn’t turn to look at him, but that might have something to with the naked bit. Or, well, the naked bits. Right. 

Merlin had no such compunctions; anything to distract him from what Arthur might be thinking. He ignored the next angry, wobbly lurch of his stomach.

The gate opened obligingly when Merlin said, “My, aren’t you looking ravishing tonight,” grinning and stroking a lazy finger down its surface. 

“See? It never hurts to smile.” Merlin tried not to sigh when Arthur scowled and muttered “Next time I’m letting you freeze to death” instead. The stones felt hard underneath Merlin’s bare feet as they crossed the courtyard; he’d become used to the soft forest ground.

Two lances were barring the doors, but they were snoring the snore of the drunk; Arthur moved them easily, motioning for Merlin to follow him and his naked arse down the hallway. 

They made it to the secret goblin-harbouring room in the library, though the trip was particularly gruesome. The torches kept trying to throw looming shadows their way, giggling in a very creepy, untorch-like manner whenever Merlin jumped. One of the doors shouted, “It’s him! The sorcerer! Off with his head!” as they snuck past; Arthur’s arse faltered only for a moment, and thankfully the din from the throne room was drowning everything else out. As they slipped past it, he saw his ratty blue neckerchief sprawled on Arthur’s throne, overseeing the garments and most of the furniture spread all over the floor dancing and laughing and generally creating an uproar. He heard Gwaine’s shirt sing a dirty ditty, and absolutely did not recognise Arthur’s underclothes swaying lazily on the other throne.

*

“Ha!” said Merlin after the book stopped trying to bite his hand off. And then, “Um.”

*

“Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?” Arthur said, and why on earth would he choose now to look Merlin in the eye again?

“No, Arthur, I’ve made it up because I’ve been dreaming of you ravishing me for years. Take me. Take me now.”

Arthur had the courtesy to blush.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be the one lying on this really very comfortable table, sire?” It came out annoyed, but then Arthur actually faltered. Merlin sighed. “Um. How do we... ?” He looked down at his limp cock. This would be an excellent time for it to come alive, too. Maybe it could carry out this awkward conversation for him. How was this his life again?

*

Arthur’s fingers brushed the inside of his thigh, and they both jumped. Arthur did it again; for some reason, the idiot didn’t stop looking at him now, and Merlin’s breath caught.

*

All in all, his life was pretty OK, Merlin decided some time later, the table shuffling over the floor while his feet were trying to find purchase on Arthur’s arse. He was fascinated by the hectic flush on Arthur’s face, and the way Arthur was still staring at him intently.

“I won’t let it take you,” Arthur gasped when he started the spell, holding on tight enough to bruise. “The magic. I won’t let it turn you evil, do you hear?” 

And Merlin thought, Oh. _Oh_ .

*

After, Merlin yelped and jumped off the table. It looked back at him, said, “Rude,” and turned into solid wood again. Arthur looked at the bite mark on his bum, and laughed. 

And for the first time in three days, Merlin’s laugh was genuine, too.

* * *

**22**

Arthur didn’t like this planet. It didn’t grow apples (Arthur loved apples), he missed his bed (he hated the watery substance the Ealdorians used instead of feathers), but most of all, he _didn’t want a slave_ (they were called ‘Manservants’ actually, but they were slaves to him).

And yet, the Ealdorians, with their advanced technology that created eerily human robots, had still thrust a Manservant upon him in spite of his adamant protests. He followed Arthur at every waking moment, and he was a bloody pain in the arse. He also had really dorky ears and bright blue eyes that twinkled (who the hell designed the Manservants?), and after a few weeks stranded on Ealdor, Arthur had accepted he wouldn’t be rid of him.

Arthur has never had a slave, so he doesn’t have anyone else to compare to, but he’s sure that Merlin is a pretty piss-poor slave. He never listens when Arthur tells him to go away, he brings ‘Ealdorian delicacies’ that make Arthur want to puke, and he’s always _touching_ Arthur – trying to help him dress in the mornings, washing his back, combing his hair – all things Arthur is more than capable of doing himself.

The unnecessary touching all makes sense when, six weeks into Arthur’s stranded vacation on Ealdor, he finds himself in the ridiculous position of tearing the clothes off of his Manservant.

“For someone designed to do this, you’re awfully terrible at it,” Arthur comments as he pulls off the silly neck scarf. “How was I meant to know that you were flirting with me?”

“Have you considered that maybe your thick head is just really obtuse?” Merlin shoots back, interrupted by a moan that is definitely induced by pain, not pleasure. “Can you please just get on with it?”

“You’re really bossy for a robot made to serve, you know that?” Arthur snorts, but obliges by pulling off Merlin’s trousers. “Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning that if I didn’t sleep with you, your body would shut down?”

Merlin rolls his hips as his trousers are tossed across the room, his cock freed and aching. “I didn’t want to force you to something you didn’t want to do,” he says quietly.

Arthur is silent for a moment, but he wraps his hand around Merlin and starts to stroke, eliciting whimpers. “Ealdor needs to do something about your systems,” Arthur says. “It’s not right. Robots have rights too.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at Merlin’s lips as he pulls Arthur down by his arm. “We’re slaves, Arthur, just like you said. We’re not anyone’s friend. It’s not for us to question. We’re machinery, and we don’t have feelings.”

Arthur gazes into Merlin’s eyes. “You’re _my_ friend,” he whispers, fingers wet with Merlin’s pre-come. “And I know you have feelings.” He squeezes the head of Merlin’s cock, and Merlin cries out. Arthur watches him. “I _know_.”

“You have to fuck me,” Merlin gasps out frantically, his clamp on Arthur tightening. “There’s less than twenty minutes until it’s been six weeks, and then I’m terminated. _Please_ , Arthur.”

Arthur hadn’t wanted this, he hadn’t, but he’d lie if he said he doesn’t want it now: Merlin spread naked across his bed, cock flushed and throbbing in his hand. He’s the most beautiful thing Arthur has ever laid eyes upon – and he’s seen Albion’s sunrise.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmurs, and then he’s pushing a slick finger into Merlin’s arse. When Arthur is three fingers deep, with Merlin choking his name under him, Arthur pulls out.

“This is going to hurt, but we don’t have time,” Arthur warns as he takes his cock out; he’s still fully clothed, but glancing at the clock, there’s _no time_.

“I was made for this, remember?” Merlin says through gritted teeth. “Just fuck me already!”

Arthur suppresses rolling his eyes and pushes into Merlin, filling the hot space. Merlin’s spine arches with his scream, and his eyes turn from blue to gold.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Merlin chants, vocal cords stretched raw. “ _Arthur._ ” 

Without any more doubt in his mind, Arthur spreads Merlin’s legs wide and fucks into him, gathering speed as Merlin cries for _more, I need more, fuck yes_ , and when he finally brings Merlin to the edge, their hands entwined against the water mattress, Merlin’s eyes burn liquid molten and comes all over their stomachs. 

When Arthur follows him, tumbling over the precipice and filling Merlin’s arse, the backs of his eyes are brighter than Albion’s sunset.

* * *

**23**

In the end, Freya saved his life. 

The final scourge against those with magic came not by Arthur's hand, but by that of another kingdom. What had once been known as Camelot went to war to protect the victims of the genocide. In the end Merlin became careless and did not see the spear aimed at his heart. It had happened near water, and the woman's spirit rose to help a man who had once helped her. She used the spirits of nature to bind him to an oak tree, saving his life but trapping him there until the times would become calm once more. 

The times never calmed. 

Kingdoms rose and fell. Centuries past and still he was trapped in sleep, suspended in time, and unaware of the world changing and becoming far from the world he knew. Now there was to be no world for him to know. 

The dark haired woman set down her camping gear and consulted her map. Looking to a small stream she touched her fingertips to the water. If one could observe her they could see her eyes glow gold. 

"Thank You, Freya." Morgana said to the river. Part of her wished she could have known the woman when she was alive. She smiled a little as she remembered how she never let Merlin know that she knew about the dress. Not that any of it mattered. 

Centuries past and there were deaths, rebirths and redemptions. Morgana was the same, but not. Many lifetimes had a way of putting things into a perspective and now that the world was ending there was no time to dwell on the past. 

_Not the world though._ she thought. Just the people.

 _Keep him safe_ The river seemed to say to her. Morgana would.

Placing her hand on the oak she whispered the spell. The tree lit on fire, and in a flash it was extinguished and nothing left of the tree but a bewildered Merlin. She helped him up and tried not to laugh as he looked with confusion at her clothes. 

"Morgana...what?"

"Shhh." She said. "You have no idea how many centuries have passed do you?" She hung her head and gave him a shortened version of everything that had happened and what will happen.

"So you release me only to die?" He asked, a barb on his tongue about how it was typical of her. 

"No." She replied. "There's one final spell." she said, spreading out the sleeping bag. "I cannot do this with anyone else."

He stared at her a moment, then it clicked. It would be a final bit of magic in a dying world. He watched as she disrobed, thinking how ill suited the modern clothing was for her. He did the same, oddly accepting of all of this. How many times he had wanted this, but not under these circumstances.

Carefully entered her both clinging onto one another as Morgan softly recited the spell into his ear, and in in turn replied with the counter spell. Scratching and animalistic they were rough with one another. Too many years had passed for gentle endearments to be thought of. 

When the end came they both vanished in the blinding light, forever to be entwined in one another.

* * *

**24**

There is hope. 

One night, when Arthur’s a baby, _everybody_ shares the same dream about Emrys the Dragonlord, who will come and save them. All believe in it.

Arthur doesn’t remember. He grows up skeptical because he doesn’t think one man can save them from this hell. 

But Arthur does dream, the same sort every night. He’s the prince of Camelot. He lives in a castle, adores his father, trains with the knights, hates magic and fears dragons.

When he’s awake, things are very different. He lives in the old Underground system of London, the trains long gone and the dark tunnels now providing shelter. His parents are gone; he’s with the other humans, and they look out for one another while trying to _survive_. He doesn’t use a sword, but he’s well versed with an ice-gun at a very young age. Magic can save lives.

He does fear dragons, though. 

Up above, they rule the world.

\--

Arthur’s reaction to his dreams changes when he’s twenty-years-old. His first dream featuring Merlin shouldn’t be anything spectacular -- Merlin is cheeky and disrespectful. They fight.

But when Arthur wakes up, his cock is hard and leaking, his breath coming in harsh pants as arousal sweeps over him in an intensity he’s never felt before. He palms his dick, groaning, thankful that he’s found a private alcove for his scheduled sleep-cycle.

He gets off quickly, but as he does he pictures this beautiful Merlin in compromising and delicious ways. It seems so vivid it could’ve been real.

This isn’t the last of Merlin in his dreams. Instinctively, he knows that Merlin is something more.

\--

Arthur is walking amongst the plants in the hydroponic greenhouse deep below the earth’s surface. The magic users have done what they can to help them grow -- rations are meager still, but it’s more natural produce then they’ve had in years.

Leon -- his once Sir Leon, who doesn’t remember even though Arthur knows now -- finds him there and reports news of a new group of survivors that’ve travelled across the lands to find refuge.

“That’s a long, dangerous road,” Arthur says, surprised. “Why would they risk the dragon packs?”

“They heard of your bravery, how you keep the people of our community safe. They have someone to protect and their camp wasn’t sufficient.”

“Who could be so important? A strong magic user?”

“Yes.” Leon pauses. “They say they have Emrys.”

“Emrys is a dream,” Arthur says immediately.

“These people insist. They say even the dragons know of him, try to target him.”

“And they would bring him here? Put us in danger?”

“They’ve nowhere else to go.”

“Bloody hell. We’ve barely enough to help our own.”

“You would turn them away?” 

Arthur shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“’S’what I thought,” Leon says. “I’ll take you to meet them.”

–

Emrys isn’t a dream; neither is Merlin. They are the same. When their eyes meet over everyone’s heads in the crowd of dirty, tired survivors, Arthur sees the same recognition in Merlin’s gaze.

It takes minutes that feel like hours before they have a moment alone, Arthur begging off dozens of questions and stating he needs to see to Emrys’ safety.

Arthur breathes, “Merlin.”

“It’s really you,” Merlin says, awed. “My dreams are--“

“Real.”

“Once,” Merlin agrees.

“And you’re the Dragonlord who will save us all.” 

Merlin’s shoulders sag with a burden Arthur easily recognises. “Everyone thinks so, but I don’t know how.”

“The dreams will tell you,” Arthur says, confident. “At the right time.”

“Perhaps.” Merlin raises his hand, knuckles grazing Arthur’s cheek. The simple touch is better than all the fantasies Arthur ever imagined. Merlin whispers, “I think we can do this together.”

“I think we always have.”

\--

Their first battle against the dragons is a success beyond belief, Arthur with his weapons and Merlin with his remembered ancient language. There is celebration, somber as it is with the lives that were lost.

Hidden in the greenhouse, Merlin and Arthur press together, hands clutching hungrily. It’s quick and frantic, the bulge of Merlin’s cock in his trousers rutting against Arthur’s leg. Arthur grabs Merlin’s arse, urging him on, harder and faster, and rubs his full cock against Merlin’s hip. Kissing is clumsy, desperate, a mere mashing of lips and clashing of teeth. Merlin tastes like ash and magic and Arthur drinks him in.

They both come trembling against each other’s bodies, and Arthur’s mind echoes, _Hope. Finally. Again._

* * *


	2. Group B (with warnings)

**25**

Warnings: Exhibitionism, voyeurism, is dub-con, non-con a warning for this prompt?. More than a lot of crack.

“Fuck or die,” Hellos says calmly as he waves a pistol at Morgana and Gwaine.

“I beg your pardon?” Morgana gasps sounding completely stunned.

“You need me to say it again? Clearer this time? Fuck. Or. Die. Simple really,” Helios says as he continues to wave the pistol back and forth his two hired goon standing dumbly behind him. 

Morgana looks at Helios and then turns to Gwaine, “Why did you let him in?”

“What are you looking at me for? He’s the one with the gun and if I remember correctly you used to date him,” Gwaine says with a smug look.

“Just because I dated him doesn’t make him sane and if I remember correctly you also fucked him,” Morgana says with an equally smug look. 

“That means nothing. I’ve fucked half the known world. I’m kinda a slut that way,” Gwaine says smugly. 

Morgana rolls her eyes, “If you were half as truthful as you are vain I’d believe you.”

“Excuse me, but I’m the one with the gun here.” Helios chimes in with a polite wave of the gun in question “Get with the fucking already.”

“Um, maybe we should do as the man says,” Gwaine says as he pushes Morgana towards the bed. 

“Strip, both of you,” Helios says following them and sitting in a chair facing the bed, His two minions flanking him on either side.

“Guess we do what the crazy man with a gun tells us,” Gwaine says as he pulls off his clothes.

Morgana looks at him with a wobbly smile as she tries to unbutton her jeans. 

Gwaine catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilts it towards his face, 

“Hey, you and me, just you and me. That’s all that matter.”

Morgana meets his eyes and says, “You and me,” as she unhooks her bra. 

“I want to see her ride him, yeah. See those tits bounce,” Helios grins.

Gwaine lies down on his back and pulls Morgana on top of him. 

“You’re hard! How are you hard?” Morgana stares incredulously.

“Umm, you naked pressed up against me? All it takes babe,” Gwaine whispers to her.

Morgana smiles as she sinks down onto his dick. It’s a smile that not many see, small and genuine and just meant for him. 

“Ah, that’s the stuff,” Gwaine says as he thrust up into her. 

“I want to see those titties bounce. Make it good,” Helios says as the sound of his goons heavy breathing gets louder.

“You heard the man,” Gwaine says as he waggles his eyebrows at her, “let’s make them jiggle.”

Morgana laughs and starts bouncing up and down on Gwaine’s dick, it’s not long before they are both panting. Gwaine reaches between them to where his dick is sliding in and out of her and presses down hard on her clit just as he starts to come inside her, sending her over the edge at the same time.

They both lie on the bed, Morgana collapsed on Gwaine’s chest, sweaty and sated. 

“Nice show, now both of you get up. You at the foot of the bed and you at the top,” Helios orders, “Oi, you tie them to the bed,” he orders the nearest goon. “Don’t try to find me, I’ll be long gone by the time you get free, just wanted to mess with you before I left,” Helios grins as he leaves with the two goons in tow. 

“Umm, what just happened?” Gwaine asks a few minutes later. 

Morgana just looks at him with an incredulous face, “Damned if I know but I’m glad it was with you.”

Gwaine honest to god blushes.

* * *

**26**

Warnings: dub-con, knotting, alpha/omega dynamics & mpreg. 

There are only five of them ready to bear but with so many preparing for war, it's what can be expected. Merlin arrives just as the Priestess Morgana is blessing the ceremony.

"We are here to prevent the destruction of our lives and the crumbling of our futures," she says, eyes lined with gold. Merlin knows she's Seeing now. He wouldn't be here, bearing his belly to an Alpha King, if she hadn't foretold peace from a sired child.

Every Omega had seen the King, in their dreams and in their nightmares true, but also in the campaigns of war. A union between an Alpha and Omega would bring faith to the Betas and stability for the region. A forced peace from a forced union.

Merlin bares his teeth in disgust, covering the sopping heat pooling underneath him, as the Golden King disrobes. He is everything the rumors told: thick with strength in his thighs, his sinewy arms and the whisper of his knot.

The Golden King's thrusts are powerful, knocking some of Merlin's brothers and sisters flat onto the stone beneath them as they writhe with the girth of his cock, but even as he stills and knots with each of them—the air doesn't glow.

Illogically, Merlin blames the blank face of the Alpha. The only sign of his physical exertion is a high color on his cheeks and the sweat that beads down his neck. His face doesn't twist in pleasure. His grunts are lifeless. His ties are short. Here, there is no passion and there is no equality.

There will be no child.

There will only be war.

Merlin watches Gwen, her breasts swaying as the King drives into her from behind. She is beautiful in pleasure, opening her sweet wetness for such an undeserving Alpha. It makes Merlin snarl.

Before long, there have been four unions and none of them have taken.

Merlin meets the King's eyes. "You will take me on my back," he says, through his teeth. "You will take me as your equal."

Shock, the first emotion Merlin has witnessed on the Alpha's beautiful face, passes quickly. The King sneers, pushing to loom over Merlin's body but he does not budge, simply growls in the beast's face.

"An equal, you say?"

Merlin licks his lips and watches as the King tracks the movement.

"For my brothers and sisters, I will bear your dog-cock. But I will not yield to you for _you_ ," Merlin spits in his face. "War Kings will never bring me pleasure."

The King is on him but the swift entry that Merlin had prepared for doesn't come. Instead, his mouth is pried open and fucked wide with a sharp tongue. Merlin refuses to mewl but arches into the King's hands as he pushes and pulls against Merlin's oversensitive flesh. Merlin doesn't lie still but wages an assault to counter this King's. With hands and mouths they snarl over each other until Merlin feels a too rough, callused palm engulf his cock—Merlin keens, head knocking back as pleasure tears through him. Neck exposed is enough of a submission and he rakes his fingernails over the King's golden toned back, crying out in hedonism but wrenching his eyes open to meet the hazy, lust-ridden fog of the Alpha's.

"You will bear me a prince," the King proclaims, stroking his cock twice before thrusting into the sloppy and gaping hole of Merlin's entrance. The thrusts are barely tolerable, pleasure warring with pain as the King drives into him, splitting him wide and snarling as Merlin moans, thrashing and countering his hips with every drive. He will come soon, from the force of the Alpha's thrust and headiness of breaking the calm that others could not.

"Your belly will be swollen with my seed, whore," the Alpha groans. "You will take my knot until I tire of your heat."

Merlin sneers, "Prove it."

With a shout, Merlin can feel the swell but the King doesn't cease his thrusts. Instead, his hips drive harder and the knot has to be worked so thoroughly into him that he does scream, thrashing beneath the bulk of the King until it is unbearable.

"Come for me now," the King whispers, against Merlin's neck. "Come for me, Merlin, Son of the DragonKings."

His body sings in an explosion of pleasure, bathed in golden light as he climaxes and the King bites deep, marking him for life while seeding a child inside of him.

Their tie lasts nearly three golden hours.

* * *

**27**

**From this Day to the Ending of the World.**

“I didn't think the end of the world would be so beautiful,” Merlin says as Arthur approaches, padding on silent feet through the moon-silvered grass. It's a warm night, warm enough that Merlin is clad in nothing but a pair of light linen trousers that frame his slender hips. He's watching the moons collide above them and Arthur has to admit that perhaps he has a point. 

Up there, in the space far above their heads, there is terrible destruction and it will rain down on this planet before the next moonrise. But for now, the reflected light from a thousand shards of shattered moon turns everything to otherworldly shades of silver and blue.

Arthur takes another step, just close enough to press lips to Merlin's bare shoulder and trail feather-light fingers down the curve of his ribs, the silken feeling of Merlin's skin sliding under his fingertips. His eyes drink in the sight of light falling across Merlin's high, beautiful cheekbones and the way the barest hint of spider shadows dances across his cheeks when he blinks.

When Merlin turns his head to look at Arthur, his eyes are golden and this close Arthur can see the subtle shift of color within them, stretching out like the billions of galaxies they'd flown thrown to get here.

“They say we don't have enough time to evacuate,” Arthur says in a hushed tone, somehow feeling that his few words have broken the stillness of the air like ripples in water.

“I know,” Merlin replies calmly as he sinks to his knees, pulling Arthur with him to the grass.

Arthur goes willingly, watching the shift of lean muscle under Merlin's skin as he descends. Merlin is beautiful, ethereal and unreal― he has always been so since time immemorial and Arthur is humbled at times to think that his life this time around must look so very short to Merlin's ancient eyes. 

Merlin presses lips to his softly, almost sweetly as he pushes Arthur back into the grass. This is his goodbye and although Arthur wants desperately to believe that he will see Merlin again in another life, he knows that it isn't true. This is their last time.

Merlin takes Arthur in his mouth slowly, and oh, what a mouth Merlin has. Arthur lets his head fall back and his eyes fill with stars as he imagines the words that have come from Merlin's mouth. Merlin's are the kind of words that have felled empires and burned worlds. They are the words that built nations from stone and ash and grown life in the desert from nothing but sand.

Arthur moans as Merlin swallows around him, mouth sinful with heat and wetness. There's something about sex with Merlin that embodies so much of what they are. Sex is flesh and blood― sticky with sweat and come and so very, very human. But there's a holiness to it, not like religion but something beyond that. It is a holiness that makes him believe that they are so much more then just two bodies tangled together under under the stars, that perhaps they are souls tangled together under the fabric of time.

Merlin sucks him sweet and slow, and Arthur doesn't notice he's about to come until it's almost too late. He chokes out a noise that might be Merlin's name, and suddenly, Merlin's mouth is gone, leaving Arthur reeling from the loss of it.

He climbs into Arthur's lap, length sliding alongside Arthur's own, and spreads long-fingered hands across his chest. Arthur looks up to find Merlin haloed by broken rock in a field of stars. He can't help but smile as Merlin leans down to kiss him, tongue slipping into his mouth as Merlin wraps his hand around them both and begins to stroke.

Arthur is so close already that he comes after only a few strokes. But he relishes watching Merlin, determined to commit this moment to memory, to burn it into the backs of his eyelids for the rest of his life. He watches every exhale and inhale of breath, each time Merlin's little pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, each breathy little moan and whispered stream of words that combines magic and love and Arthur into one.

Afterward, when they're both spent and thoroughly relaxed, Merlin stretches out luxuriously in the grass next to him to watch the stars. These are not Earth's stars, but Merlin knows them anyway. Arthur falls asleep to the gentle murmur of Merlin's voice weaving the tales of constellations and the feeling of Merlin's fingers intertwined with his own.

* * *

**28**

"Arthur,” Merlin whined, tugging at his shift in the middle of the night. "Need sex."

Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther, rubbed his bleary eyes and stared.

“Again, so soon? You just had some before dinner!”

“Please,” Merlin said. “I just need to suck your cock. Please, Arthur.” Merlin looked desperate now, eyes wild and flaring gold.

Arthur sighed and removed his bedcovers, then pulled up the shift to his belly.

“Come on then.”

Merlin practically jumped onto the bed, unlacing Arthur’s smallclothes down with trembling fingers, and homed in onto his cock. There was little finesse or technique as he licked around and up and about, his pink tongue going everywhere.

 _Am I a stick of candy?_ , Arthur thought, as Merlin lapped eagerly at his rapidly-growing erection. Ordinarily, he’d have thought getting your cock sucked every night in bed was a luxury, but familiarity breeds contempt, and he’d been getting off in Merlin’s mouth at least twice daily for a month now. He was starting to get a bit sore, really.

This latent cambion blood of Merlin’s was a bit bollocks. He hadn’t thought to mention it even after the fallout of revealing his magic (which, by the way, led to screaming matches and perhaps a bit of manly tears Arthur would never admit to), and a sudden bout of a Very Serious Cold had caused the trait to flare up, resulting in a shivery, weak, dying Merlin whom Gaius had finally proclaimed needed _sea-men_. Arthur had been confused, until Morgana had told him in no uncertain terms that it meant that Merlin had to suck someone off. Guinevere just hid a smile behind her hand.

Of course, Arthur couldn’t let the honour of his personal manservant be besmirched by ~~Gwaine~~ rumours, so he long-sufferingly offered to be the sacrifice.

Thus the reason for his current state of nightly interruptions. It was a bit nice, he supposed, feeling the familiar warmth pool in his belly. And then he felt a finger prodding at his arse and yelped, nearly jumping off the bed.

“Merlin!” Arthur roared, feeling indignant.

Merlin came off his cock with a loud ‘pop’ sound. 

“What? It’s supposed to feel good!” he said, sounding a bit miffed.

“And just where did you learn that from?” Arthur asked.

“…Gwaine,” he mumbled, and looked down in embarrassment.

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just… come here.” Then he pulled Merlin up, unlaced his breeches, and aligned their cocks together. They began to rock slowly, grunting at intervals, trying to find a rhythm but sniping at each other at every turn. Arthur shut him up by biting down on his collarbone, hard. 

It took a while but he finally came with a shudder, come spilling and making a mess between their bodies, white and stark.

With a hand, he swiped at his belly, scooping up the thick, milky fluid, and made sure that he didn’t drip any on the bedclothes. Then he held Merlin’s jaw with the other hand and sternly ordered him to “open wide”.

Merlin was still panting, face flushed, having not yet come. He looked at Arthur’s hand warily and opened his mouth. Arthur slipped his fingers through, and he started licking with tiny little laps like a cat, relishing the bitter, salty taste of the come as it hit his tongue. He grasped Arthur’s wrist in his, twisting his hand so he could get to all of it.

Arthur looked at Merlin, who had just licked up the last globs of come and was smiling contentedly, eyes half-lidded, the feral, hungry look gone.

Well, he guessed it wasn’t so bad. Gaius said that he’d find a spell to control Merlin’s cambion blood soon enough.

* * *

**29**

 

 **Warnings:** References to mild gore

 

‘ _Fuck!_ ’ Merlin stared at the place where the crazed chimpanzee had previously stood. All that was left was a pile of bloody remains and bits of fur. Swallowing, he turned to face Arthur. ‘Are you out of your bleeding _mind_? I was right _there_! You could have hit _me_ , you great prat! And where the _fuck_ did you get a freaking _machine gun_ from?’

Arthur shrugged. 

‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘It was just lying there on the road, next to some guy’s leg.’ He frowned. ‘Why are you so miffed anyway? I just saved your bloody life! You’d be a slavering monkey-zombie slave if it weren’t for me!’

‘I’d also be full of bullet holes if your aim was a little worse,’ Merlin grumbled. He looked down at himself and sighed. ‘ _And_ I’ve now got zombie-monkey blood all over me,’ he said in disgust and immediately started tugging his shirt up over his head. Having managed to pull it off without getting any of the spatter on his skin, he glanced up to throw Arthur a grin of triumph. To his surprise, Arthur was staring at him with a look of dangerous hunger on his face.

‘Oh shit,’ Merlin said, scrabbling around in his pockets for a knife. ‘You were _bitten_! A monkey bit you and now you’re a monkey-zombie slave and you want to eat me and drink my blood and-’

Arthur let out a groan.

‘Oh shut _up_!’ he growled, and he strode forward, knocking Merlin’s flailing hands away before drawing him up into a deep hungry kiss. He pulled away and glared at Merlin. ‘The only thing I’m interested in _eating_ is your _arse_ , you little idiot!’ And he went back to kissing Merlin almost ferociously.

‘Ah,’ Merlin said when they at last pulled apart for air. ‘Good. That’s good. I’m glad.’ He threw Arthur a teasing glance. ‘Otherwise I’d have to find someone else to start fucking me senseless.’ A mischievous smile twitched at his lips. ‘Perhaps Gwaine …’

With a feral snarl Arthur surged forward, shoving Merlin up against the wall with one hand and tugging roughly at Merlin’s trousers with the other.

‘If that fucker so much as _touches_ you, I’m feeding him to the monkeys,’ he warned, his lips against Merlin’s neck, causing him to squirm. Arthur took the opportunity to quickly shove his trousers down and kick them away, leaving Merlin completely naked.

Panting, Arthur looked him up and down before closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Merlin’s. ‘This will have to be quick,’ he murmured. ‘The others are waiting for us back at camp. They won’t be happy if we make them wait for dinner – you know how hungry everyone is nowadays.’

‘Don’t care,’ Merlin grunted, pressing his groin against Arthur’s and causing them both to moan. ‘This will only take a minute. I like it fast and hard anyway.’

Arthur snorted before quickly seizing Merlin by the thighs and pushing them up around his waist. Reaching down in between Merlin’s arse-cheeks, he was pleased to discover that Merlin had already come prepared.

‘Fast and hard, eh?’ Arthur muttered, lining himself up against Merlin’s entrance. ‘I can do that.’ And with one swift thrust, he had pushed himself into Merlin. 

Merlin groaned as Arthur shoved in unrelentingly, not letting up until he was buried balls-deep inside of him. Once in, they both let out a sigh.

‘Right,’ Merlin said after a moment, pinching Arthur’s side. ‘Let me have it.’

And without a moment’s pause, Arthur began furiously plunging his cock in and out of Merlin, grunting with every thrust he made. Merlin’s loud, pleasure-filled moans only served to spur him on quicker. At that moment they wouldn’t have noticed even if a horde of angry zombie-monkeys had come up behind them. 

‘Arthur!’ Merlin moaned, as Arthur’s dick hit a wonderful spot inside of him. ‘God, right there!’

‘Fuck!’ Arthur swore, shoving his cock in harder, his grip on Merlin’s waist bruising in its intensity and his hips all but slamming into Merlin’s. ‘Jesus, you’re so _tight_!’

Merlin moaned at that and, at the next bruising thrust, clenched tightly around Arthur’s dick and came almost violently against their chests.

Arthur, with a few more hurried, jerky thrusts, came moments later. 

They stood like that for a moment still joined.

‘So,’ Merlin said after a moment, looking up with a soft grin. ‘Ready to face the ravenous monkey hordes?’

Arthur smirked, his gun already within reach.

‘Absolutely,’ he said, and kissed Merlin.

* * *

**30**

Warnings: dub/noncon, sex slavery, imprisonment.

"You've missed me, haven't you, pet?" Morgana sweeps into the bedroom grandly, ignoring Merlin's glare from where he kneels, waiting.

She comes to him without care, lifting his chin with her fingers and stealing a kiss from his mouth. His fingers curl, likely wishing they were at her throat, but she simply laughs. She has made the cord around his wrists that binds him to peace; it is golden thread spun from Arthur's hair, and it drips with magic.

"He calls for you," Morgana tells Merlin, curling his hair between her fingers. "I have told him that you are dead, but he doesn't believe me."

Merlin's mouth is a defiant twist; she presses a finger between his lips and breaks it apart.

***

So long as Arthur is alive Merlin will do whatever she bids, but he is not broken. The mark on his tongue allows him to use his mouth only for her pleasure, but it does not mean he does not bite.

When she is not in the mood for biting, she gags him. She has always liked seeing Merlin on his back.

"Harder," she pushes him, sitting astride his cock.

He is already dripping with sweat, hips faltering as he pushes up into her, but she bares her teeth and _demands_. She knows she will never get true satisfaction from him, so she can only take as much as she is able. She can only take everything he has.

***

An eternity of torment is less than he deserves, Morgana thinks in bed some nights, when she wakes from black and red nightmares. These are the nights that she glances down to where Merlin sleeps, shackled to the wall.

She sucks out his golden-green dreams and bathes in them, discards them. There is no place for them in her world.

***

The window is open and the breeze smells of sulphur. Morgana breathes it in, hot, and looks down on her kingdom. It is like the world is baking. Before it was a wet sludge, but she has hardened it—soon she will crack it open and take the bread as her due.

Merlin approaches, head bowed. He carries a tray, bringing a glass of water.

"Concerned for my welfare, were you?" she asks, delicately lifting the glass. The water inside is cold, and fills her with an inexplicable rage.

He sputters when she grabs his jaw, forcing him down, and coughs when she pours the water over his face, into his open mouth.

"Oh, pet," Morgana whispers, and sweeps droplets from his eyelashes.

She forces him down further, fingers wet, and breaches him without hesitation. He moans, in either pleasure or pain—she cares not which—and goes still under her, arching only occasionally, until she has had her fill.

When she kisses the water from his mouth, it doesn't taste of poison at all. It tastes of salt.

***

She takes his head between her legs and tells him of Arthur.

"Sometimes he cries," she says, dragging her fingers along Merlin's scalp. "I won't let him see you, I won't tell him I have you here, but he knows. He wants me to just kill him, and let you go."

Merlin's tongue digs deep into her cunt, vicious.

"But I won't kill him," she reassures Merlin, stroking his hair. "You obey me as promised, and I'll keep him alive forever. If I killed him you'd tear the world apart, wouldn't you? What's left of it, that is."

Merlin's eyes flick up to hers. In them, she sees a desperation that mirrors her own. It is the kind of desperation that Morgana knows how to use.

***

This she has prophesized: together, they will be the end of everything.

It will come on her own terms.

* * *

**31**

**Warnings:** age disparity (17 for Lance and 30 for Gwaine), dub-con, use of guns, tiny mentions of blood, hinted age disparity between Arthur and Merlin. 

I would fall on my knees for you

 

"Do it," Agravaine says.

Gwaine can feel the cold barrel of the gun against his temple, holds down a shiver when he hears the click of the bullet settling into place. The sound echoes in the ten foot by ten foot room with white walls. The only things in the room are the chair to which Lance is bound, head hanging, and the camera pointed right in Gwaine and Lance's direction.

"No, thank you," Gwaine answers. "I just brushed my teeth."

He's rewarded with a blow to the face that sends him reeling, hands spasming against the rope that ties his hands to his back. Agravaine forces Gwaine to his knees and shoves him forward so that Gwaine's cheek lands on Lance's thigh. Lance says nothing and Gwaine hopes the blow he received is enough to keep Lance well out of it until Gwaine comes up with a plan to get them out of here.

The only door in the room is blocked by Agravaine and that other guard with the muscles. Even if Gwaine could get free there's no way neither Agravaine nor the guard would notice and as much as Gwaine hates his job, he doesn't much fancy getting shot just to get out of it. Besides, there's Lance.

It's not the boy's fault his father, Arthur, is fucking Morgana's son. There's no other explanation for why Agravaine pointed his gun at Gwaine's head and asked him to suck.

"If you don't want to do it, I can put you out of your misery. I'll shoot you and fuck the little boy until he screams," Agravaine hisses in Gwaine's ear. "I bet he's never been fucked before."

Gwaine shudders, but not because Agravaine has a gun to his head. He's not afraid because even if he dies, Morgana wouldn't dare kill Lance, not with Merlin so close to Arthur. Gwaine shudders because Agravaine's words hit home. 

He's thought so much about Lance and his brown eyes, the way he smiles at everyone, how he is the first to offer his seat on the bus to others. He's everything Gwaine isn't; innocent, clean. He's seventeen and Gwaine is thirty, but he's still gotten himself off to the thought of Lance underneath him, his eyes wide as Gwaine taught him things, made him feel things, no one else had.

"Suck," Agravaine says.

"You need to untie my hands," he tries.

"Use your teeth."

Gwaine turns sideways, his hair covering most of his view as he grins. "Kinky bastard. I bet you get off on this."

He gets a blow to the back of the head in response. Agravaine's gun is pressed against the back of Gwaine's head and there's blood in his mouth, but there's nothing to do. 

"You're letting us go after?" Gwaine asks as he scoots forward on his knees until he's right in between Lance's legs.

"If you make it good," Agravaine answers.

Lance's eyes flutter open when Gwaine's teeth tug the zip on his jeans down. 

"Don't stop," Agravaine commands. "Don't talk to him either if he wakes up."

Gwaine says nothing, just mouths at the outline of Lance's cock through his boxers. He licks to get the material wet while his eyes scan the room as best as he can. Anything to keep his mind off what he's doing. Anything to keep his thoughts away from how he's fucked up big time. 

Fucking skirt. 

It's that girl's fault, her, her suicidal tendencies to cross streets without looking and Lance's damn hero tendencies. He got those from his father and Gwaine had to jump in so that Lance wouldn't, took his eyes off Lance for _one fucking second_ and they'd ended up here.

"Gwaine," Lance breathes out. "What are you doing?"

It's the way Lance says his name that has heat pooling low in Gwaine's stomach. He can't answer and that just drives him forward, how Lance's eyes widen when Gwaine tries to suck at the head of Lance's cock. It's the low moan that escapes from Lance's lips—the idea that he might want this, that Gwaine on his knees sucking him off is what causes him to harden. It pushes Gwaine over a line he'd never been willing to cross. He knows the camera is recording this, that Arthur will see it.

But Gwaine doesn't care about that. 

All he wants is to get Lance off and if he can snap Agravaine's neck afterwards, well, that's just a bonus.

* * *

**32**

Warnings: Incest, Noncon(nonviolent), gangbang

"He will need the essence of the knights to survive, but mostly he will need you."

Gaius' words echoed in Merlin's ears. Bad enough to be outed as a sorcerer. Bad enough to see the look of hurt on Arthur's face, but now to be in a room with them all and to perform THIS kind of druidic ritual to save a man that will kill Merlin if he recovers. Might even kill them all for participating in it.

The spell was powerful old magic that drained life back to the earth. Only essential essences of a devoted one could halt it's progress, maybe even slowly bring the King back from the brink of death. 

Gaius was first. He would use his own magic and oils to ease the way for the others that followed. He would also start the chant. Arthur was to oversee the rite as the closest living relation but averted his eyes so as not to be drawn into it himself. 

Devotion. All in the room wore long red robes and nothing more. It was to be a somber event with respect and deference to the one they were doing this for. The king laid in a small circle surrounded by his and Arthur's most trusted men. His legs spread and raised on oddly shaped branches of the earth, naked save for two markings, one on his chest over his heart, the other on the sole of his right foot.

Leon stepped forward after Gaius finished with the preparation. He began to chant the same phrase over and over that the healer already began. "diht blædum sy éower". 

Their two voices sparked the air with something tangible. A natural smell of... It was like being back in Ealdor during harvest, or lost in the woods during a hunt after a long rain. It was growth and perseverance of life.

Leon shed his cloak, standing tall and erect for all to see. Forward he pushed slowly into the king. Merlin closed his eyes not wanting to watch what would be his lot before the rite finished, but the heat in his face told of how it was already effecting him. 

Maybe forever moments later, a stilted hum passed from Leon's lips, and Percival's baritone mingled in the air. Soft and soothing Merlin felt the tingle of his arousal. He didn't want it to be so, but the compulsion to sate something basic pulled at his groin, then tugged something deeper within him. 

He kept his eyes closed to the sight of each knight beginning the chant, dropping their robes, fucking the king and rejoining the circle. Each time stronger reverberations of the magic offered filled Uther.

It took Arthur's voice to get Merlin to open his eyes. It joined the chorus. Gauis said he didn't have to, but the ritual song might compel him even with his eyes closed like Merlin's were. And now that the visuals of all the knights standing bare, touching themselves and chanting in a perfect circle around Uther's perfectly displayed dripping hole, it was taking restraint and a spell Merlin quietly cast on himself to remain standing where he was and not run thrusting into king. 

Arthur, blond and beautiful, looked dazed, half out of his mind with desire. His own hand pushed drop after drop of clear fluid to the cave floor.

Logic should have said it was wrong for this to happen, wrong for Arthur to push inside and touch that place in his own father, but for some reason Merlin didn't care about that. He only saw the beauty of nature completing a circle, giving life.

Merlin entered the circle unable to stop himself as he began the chant. Arthur wasn't finished but that didn't matter. It was the circle that mattered. The completion of the whole. The other side of the coin. Merlin's eyes flashed brilliantly beyond his normal blue to gold. Arthur's body was made ready. Merlin could complete the circle, offer his life and essence through Arthur to Uther. Yes. That was as it was meant to be. 

His tip pushed into the tight wetness of the Prince who whimpered in his own ecstasy. More.More.More. Merlin's power siphoned off in the warm comfort of Arthur's body. Faster he rocked his hips. Faster till the flutter of Uther's eyes and the passage of time. With a sigh of relief, the sound of the knights seemed to blend into a quiet hum of the Earth's approval.

* * *

**33**

**Warnings: child death, blood, implied character deaths, ambiguous ending**  
 **War Was in Color**  
The rifle weighs heavily in his hands, one of Arthur's few remaining possessions. Not that'll actually help much, not in this war. It certainly didn't help its previous owner, the boy who looked up at Arthur with clouded, accusing eyes as the weapon was pulled from small, stiffened fingers.

Too young, they are always too damn young; the boy should have been playing, happy and carefree, not fighting battles that none of them will ever have a chance of winning. Merlin had the decency to shut those eyelids for the last time, murmuring a simple prayer to a God Arthur is sure stopped listening ages ago. He has already cast any form of devotion out of the recesses of his own heart, not willing to believe in a deity that would let a once thriving civilization devolve into such savagery.

To this day, those he can’t save haunts his dreams, and it was the same this morning. But instead of Merlin’s comforting hand instantly being on his back, Arthur's screaming just echoed off the crumbling walls of the empty warehouse that serves as their hideout.

After a brief moment of confusion, the events of last night came flooding back to him, and he cursed himself for being so blind. For failing to recognize the signs right in front of him.

" _You shouldn't be here_ ," Merlin had insisted, starting the same argument they’ve had a million times already, " _This isn't your fight._ "

" _You're right_ ," Arthur had responded, burying his nose into the crook of Merlin's shoulder and breathing in deeply. " _It's ours_."

Last night had been different; gone was the frantic stripping of clothes, usually driven by the desperate need to touch and connect while they still had time. In its place were lingering caresses and toe-curling kisses, whispered promises that they knew they wouldn't be allowed to keep but told each other all the same. When Arthur finally thrust his cock into Merlin's slickened heat, he stilled his movements, the sheer magnitude of the moment threatening to overwhelm him.

" _Damnit, Arthur,_ move," Merlin had pleaded through gritted teeth, " _Please_."

Arthur complied, unable to deny Merlin for much longer. And as their climax ripped through their shuddering bodies, Arthur placed his lips against Merlin’s sweat-drenched brow, struggling to ignore the soft sobbing coming from the warm body curled up in his arms.

No doubt Merlin has intended for that to be their last goodbye, but like hell is Arthur going to allow the idiot-- _his damn, lovable idiot_ \--to have the final say in the matter.

Now he darts along the abandoned streets of the former bustling metropolis; ever since the ban against magic and the subsequent rebellion, society has been to reduced to mortar and rubble, ripping humanity to shreds along with it. There’s no clear-cut sides to this war any more, the air strike missiles that constantly shriek overhead not concerned with whom they kill.

Exploding shrapnel leaves oozing ribbons in Arthur’s skin, but he doesn’t dare stop. Not now, not when he sees Merlin up ahead. Countless military drones litter the ground, and there’s even a downed helicopter smoldering nearby. This is the work of a sorcerer of the highest caliber, and Arthur is temporarily struck dumb by Merlin’s display of power.

But in the end, Merlin is only human.

“...Took you long enough,” Merlin chuckles weakly underneath the concrete partition that traps his broken body. His eyes aren’t the molten gold like whenever he uses magic, but the normal crystal clear color of the skies before the smog threw everything into darkness.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur growls as he falls to his knees, immediately taking Merlin’s mouth in his despite the twangy, coppery taste. He brushes tears from Merlin’s dark eyelashes whilst his cheeks are stained with his own, and then leans down to tell Merlin everything.

He tells of a world with good men and pure hearts, untainted by the blight of ignorance or fear. Of children playing in the streets, of friends laughing with each other, of kisses stolen by lovers both young and old. Of picnics in sun-ripened meadows, blanketed by bright blue skies that stretch on forever. He talks and talks, until he runs out of things to say, until the piercing roar warns them it’s too late for Arthur to run, even if he wanted to.

Arthur kisses the curve of Merlin’s cold cheek as this crazy, fucked-up world crashes down upon them.

* * *

**34**

Content: sounding

Merlin, as a rule, didn't tell his patients "I told you so." It didn't help the situation, it rarely prevented future accidents, and it only served to make his patients even more ashamed -- and thus less likely to see him in a timely manner in the future.

But he was willing to make an exception for Gwaine.

"I _told_ you not to go traipsing around alien planets without protective wear!" 

"Yeah, Merlin, not really helping," Gwaine hissed through gritted teeth. He was curled on his side on the examination table, not caring that it left his ass exposed. But then, Gwaine never cared if people saw his junk. Better than when Arthur came in, too embarrassed to even properly tell Merlin what was wrong.

Merlin forced Gwaine to lie straight so the computer could do a proper scan -- not that it changed the result any.

"So, when you went swimming in that river -- which I _also_ told you not to do -- some parasites decided your urethra looked very inviting."

"That sounds really bad, Merlin. Give me some good news instead?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You're pregnant with baby parasites. Once the eggs hatch, the larvae will eat all the delicious protein in your testicles, grow nice and big, and then chew their way out to freedom."

Gwaine turned pale, grabbed his balls, and groaned in pain. "Merlin, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, please tell me there's a cure."

Merlin already had the syringe out and half-filled with the specific anti-parasitic needed. "I'm going to have to touch your penis and drip some liquid down your urethra. If that's all right?"

"If the alternative is my balls exploding, then _yes_ it's all right!" Gwaine even lifted the gown up and spread his legs wide, to give Merlin a clear view of his dick.

Merlin wasted no time; he cleaned the head of Gwaine's cock and pulled on a pair of gloves, then held Gwaine's penis upright so he could slowly squeeze the liquid down the opening.

"Fuck, my fantasies never started like this," Gwaine mumbled, which Merlin decided to ignore. After the syringe was emptied, he grabbed one of the smooth metal rods lying on the tray, wiped it down with an alcohol rub, and lined it up with the tip of Gwaine's cock.

"This is just to loosen you up. Want to make sure all the parasites make it out later."

"Not complaining, Merlin. Just do it."

Merlin had to admit he was slightly impressed with how unfazed Gwaine was by the procedure itself; during med school, Merlin had performed the procedure on quite a few cadets and it was always an ordeal. 

Gwaine groaned when the sound first penetrated the slit. When Merlin looked up, he saw that Gwaine was flushed completely red. 

"Fuck, that feels weird."

"Be glad it's not a catheter. Those feel even weirder."

Gwaine thankfully stayed quiet, groaning only as Merlin reapplied lube and switched out the sound for a slightly wider one. After about twenty minutes of this, Merlin figured the anti-parasitic had probably done its job.

"Okay. After this, I'm going to make you ejaculate. Is that all right or would you rather--"

"Fuck yes, please."

Merlin really shouldn't have been surprised that Gwaine was finding this all a turn on -- joke on deck was that Gwaine could find anything sexy -- but he wasn't quite prepared for Gwaine's enthusiasm. Still better than if it had been Arthur on the table, he supposed.

Once the sound was removed, Merlin handed Gwaine a cup. "Hold that by your dick to catch everything that comes out, all right?"

Gwaine nodded, and he seemed to keen when Merlin brought a lube covered hand to his hole. It was getting hard for Merlin to stay professional, but he refused to do anything untoward during work. 

Merlin worked quickly to milk Gwaine, though he was forced to bring a hand down on Gwaine's thigh to keep him from writhing so much.

"Fuck, Merlin, you gotta--"

The first pulses of come shot out and landed in the cup. Merlin kept going, until Gwaine seemed completely dry; Gwaine's entire body was trembling by the end of it.

Merlin gently lifted the cup out of Gwaine's hand and pointed. "See those green bits? Those are the parasites."

The look of horror said it all, though Gwaine smoothed it over into a grin. "Next time, let's do this without the parasites."

 _Only Gwaine_ , Merlin thought and laughed.

* * *

**35**

Warnings: some voyeurism

“Did you feel that?” Gwaine asks. When Merlin doesn't respond, he does it again, harder, making sure to catch at a nipple as he rakes his fingers down Merlin's chest.

Merlin twitches, faintly. Gwaine's breath leaves him in a rush, because that's a response, that’s better than he was starting to expect. He tries once more, biting at Merlin's earlobe as he scratches, and this time he feels the shiver all along Merlin's spine, where it's pressed against his chest.

They’re in a low-ceilinged cavern of rock, six men gathered in a loose circle around them. The men are fools, every last one, but Gwaine thinks the biggest fools are the two who have begun to let interest replace fear in their eyes.

“Why are we doing this, again?” Merlin murmurs.

_Because we need to buy time to get Leon and the others in position. Because this keeps us close together, and as long as we’re close, and I can speak into your ear and you into mine, we have a chance._

_Because you need to remember you have a body. You need to find a measure of calm, you need to be more than force and power for a moment if we’re to keep this place from crumbling around us._

“They think your magic will leave you, after this,” Gwaine whispers. “ _We_ think there’s nothing so nice as the element of surprise.”

“Right, right.” Merlin reaches back and grips Gwaine’s bare hips, and Gwaine follows his lead, pressing even closer, his cock trapped tight against the curve of Merlin’s arse. “How do you think we should do it, then?”

“I believe buggery is traditional in these sorts of situations.”

“Penetration as the key to removing all of my Druidical powers?” Merlin sighs. “These people obviously have no idea what Druids get up to of an evening.”

Gwaine muffles his snort against Merlin’s hair. “I truly cannot wait for you to show me.”

“ _You_ know I’m not actually a Druid.”

What Gwaine knows is that the Druids are pretty damn convinced that Merlin is their prophet, and the only thing Gwaine has in common with the band of idiots surrounding them is that he tends to think that probably means something. 

Good thing that Merlin chooses that moment to grind back against Gwaine; the grunt that escapes Gwaine when the head of his cock jabs into Merlin’s spine is reason enough not to reply.

“I’ve slicked myself,” Merlin says - _with a spell_ , Gwaine interprets - “so go on. Whenever you’re ready.”

Merlin’s still working his hips, so with every passing second, Gwaine is more and more ready; his cock is starting to throb, a steady, determined pulse at odds with his racing heartbeat. But when he palms Merlin’s cock, it’s not nearly as interested as he’d hoped, and he realises that Merlin still isn’t truly _with_ him; his power is probably still crawling the caves, searching for Arthur, wherever he’s been hidden away.

And that sort of thing’s fine, it’s good, it’s useful, up until the earth begins to shake.

Gwaine would prefer that not happen again. When Merlin had first come to and realised they’d been separated from Arthur, if Gwaine hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t been able to make Merlin hear him, the world would have come to pieces. It had terrified their captors; Gwaine had only the barest grasp of their tongue, but he knew it was why they’d decided on this course of action, and why none of them were brave enough to touch the sorcerer themselves.

Gwaine busies his fingers. He considers himself skilled in the area of bringing Merlin off, but in this test of his abilities, the stakes are starting to feel uncomfortably high, and the usual methods of keeping score elusive. When Gwaine tugs at Merlin’s foreskin, he doesn’t hum in his throat; when he cups his balls, Merlin doesn’t shiver. It’s not until the third time that Gwaine rubs a thumb over Merlin’s slit that Merlin’s cock gives an uncontrolled jerk, and Gwaine’s relief at that hits him right in the knees.

Maybe it’s time for something new. Merlin usually goes for long, slow strokes, but Gwaine speeds up, and is rewarded - _yes_ \- by a short, shocky gasp out of Merlin. He begins teasing his own cock against Merlin’s entrance, pressing against muscle and then pulling away, pressing and pulling away, until finally, finally, Merlin says, “Whenever you’re _ready_ ,” voice breaking gratifyingly on the final word.

Gwaine slips a finger in instead, and when Merlin rocks back, cursing, bites his grin into Merlin’s shoulder.

“Now, now, mustn’t rush,” Gwaine says, and settles in to give Merlin the buggering of his life.

* * *

**36**

Warnings: Character death

 

Merlin's known around campus as that weird kid who wears hand-knit arm warmers and petitioned the school to serve organic vegetables in the dining commons. He's generally treated as a bit of an oddball, at least until the epidemic hits at the start of senior year.

Merlin's watched enough National Geographic while procrastinating on homework to know that trying to go anywhere with a plague in the air is asking for trouble, so he hunkers down in his apartment with his girlfriend, Freya, and they laugh about the fact that her experiments with canning mean they're probably the only students in town not living off of booze and ramen.

#

A week after the city shuts down, someone bangs on their door. They huddle out of sight, clinging to each other.

"Please," the stranger calls. "I see your candles at night. _Please_. I swear I'm not sick, but the water in my building's been shut off."

Freya's mouth stretches in an expression that could mean anything. Merlin sighs and opens the door to the frat boy neighbor whose raucous parties always ruin Merlin's Friday nights. "Great," Merlin groans, and the look he sends Freya says, _This is your fault_.

#

It's not long before winter's in full swing, and the knitting that Arthur laughed at is the only thing keeping them warm. They ration Freya's spaghetti sauce and huddle together under quilts. Survival has long since trumped any need for personal space.

With the cold comes chapped lips and cracked skin. Freya goes out one morning and comes back with armloads of abandoned thrift store sweaters for Merlin to unravel and repurpose. Two days later, she starts to cough.

"It's just a cold," Merlin pleads while she tries to pull away. "You always get colds in winter."

She locks herself in the bedroom. Merlin begs her to let him in, but gets no answer. He sits against the door all night, listening to her crying, and coughing.

In the morning, he wakes with a blanket tucked around him. The door's still locked. Behind it, all is quiet. Merlin calls Freya's name, then shouts it, pounding his hands bloody until Arthur drags him away.

"Stop this!" He gets in Merlin's face and gives him a violent shake. "She was stronger than this. Now you have to be, too."

 _Was_ makes Merlin sob until he thinks he's broken something inside and will never stop. Arthur brings water and blankets and stands on the other side of the room looking lost.

#

Merlin shivers through the night, too used to sleeping curled against Freya's warmth. Halfway to dawn, he rouses to a muttered, "For Christ's sake," and a wash of cold air under the blankets. He mutters a sleepy protest until a strip of blazing heat presses against his side, and Arthur's arms wrap around his middle.

"There. _Now_ will you sleep?"

Merlin doesn't think it's possible without Freya's coconut-scented hair tangling across the pillow. But the next thing he knows is the glare of the morning sun and Arthur standing over him with a bowl of cold albóndigas soup and a stubborn expression.

Merlin eats because Arthur insists, and afterward, Merlin stares at him and wonders when this spoiled frat boy turned into someone so reliable.

#

When darkness falls and the cold deepens, Arthur slips in beside Merlin without a word. Merlin lets him press close and tries not to feel guilty for enjoying his warmth.

#

This time, morning comes with Arthur still at Merlin's back, the jut of an erection denting his hip. Merlin ought to slip away, but it's nice, and it'll be cold and lonely outside the blankets. He feigns sleep, instead, until Arthur rouses with a murmured, "Merlin?" and his arms tighten across Merlin's chest.

Merlin turns to face him, heart thumping. Arthur's very close and he has morning breath and it's too soon and Merlin shouldn't let this happen and it's fucked and somehow it's necessary.

This time, Arthur's "Merlin?" is a breathless query.

Merlin slides in, face buried against his throat. Arthur's hips flex, a testing thrust. When Merlin doesn't pull away, Arthur's arms wrap him like a vise. "I'm sorry," he breathes against the crown of Merlin's head as their hands trace each other's skin. Heat and breath builds between them until it's easy to forget the cold outside. "I'm so sorry."

It's not love. It isn't even sex, not really. It's solace, and it's a reminder. Even at the end of the world, life goes on.

* * *

**37**

**Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, heat, knotting**

Merlin’s body burned. The air was cool on his sweat soaked skin but it did nothing to sooth the heat that was twisting in his belly. There was a slickness between his thighs as he walked and his nails scratched on the stone walls as he pulled himself down the corridor. He knew where he was going, his scent called to him.

He felt weak and sick, like his body would collapse at any moment. He shouldn’t have gone with Gaius this morning to collect herbs, but he had thought he’d have more time. It had come on suddenly and strongly.

“Arthur,” he gasped as he pushed his way into the Prince’s room breathing him in.

Arthur turned to him, eyes widening as he took in his current state. He was already rushing to Merlin’s side, arms pulling him close.“Merlin why didn’t you…”

“I didn’t know.” Merlin babbles closing his eyes as Arthur’s scent surrounded him, the fire in his body raging brighter as their skin touched. “I didn’t know, I thought we’d have more time. “ Time to prepare, but it had hit him hard and Merlin could already feel his heart trying to tear it’s way out of his chest. It hurt and it burned and he just _needed_.

“Sssh,” Arthur’s pressed his lips against Merlin’s neck and pulled him towards the bed, tugging off Merlin’s shirt as he went. His hands trailed down Merlin’s sides and Merlin whimpered. 

Arthur set Merlin on the bed, pulled down his trousers. Hands gripped his wet thighs, pulling them apart and bending his knees. Arthur’s fingers circled his pucker, two fingers pushing in easily and Merlin moaned, needing to be pull.

Arthur pulled back and quickly shed his clothes, covering Merlin’s body with his own. “Never again,” he whispered hotly into the skin of Merlin’s neck as he pressed his cock against Merlin, pressing in into the slickness that was there for him. “You reckless idiot, I could have lost you.” He stopped holding back and sank his teeth into Merlin’s neck as he pounded into his body. 

It happened, sometimes omega’s wouldn’t get to an alpha in time during their heat and their hearts would give out on them. Sudden heats where rare but had stolen the life of more than one omega, it’s why the alpha’s stayed close when they found theirs. 

Merlin shivered, his body burning with a different fire now and Arthur grew inside of him, locking them together. 

They drifted, pressed closely together. Arthur turned them so we was pressed up close behind Merlin, still locked in him as he emptied himself into his omega. Merlin couldn’t keep his eyes open, feeling exhaustion drag him down his body crashing in relief. There was a knock at the door and Merlin felt Arthur shift, his voice a low murmur as he told a servant to his father know he would be unavailable for the next few days.

Sometimes a heat could last up to a week, and this one had already started off bad. Arthur wouldn’t leave Merlin’s side until it had ran it’s course.

* * *

**38**

Warning: Possible dub-con...depends on how you look at it.

“Arthur, I don’t have time to explain; you need to fuck me _right now_.”

Before noon, Mid-Summer’s day, it was already hotter than Arthur could ever remember it being.

“You know I like you but, no. Gwen’d kill me.”

“Not today.”

“What _are_ you babbling about?”

“Arthur, if you don’t spill your seed inside me within the next twenty minutes, what happened to Camelot after you shot the unicorn will look like a candle beside a fire-storm.”

“If I don’t _fuck_ you, _right now_ , Camelot is doomed?”

“Every living thing.”

“Merlin, what the fuck?!”

“No time to explain! Now, for the love of Camelot, strip!”

Merlin’s belt was off and his tunic was going as he uttered his command. Despite the fact that both knew he could annihilate Arthur without a word, Merlin rarely issued demands. He didn’t act the fool anymore but did remain relatively respectful of Arthur’s position. 

Merlin’s eyes began slowly swirling gold. Arthur’d never seen them like that, they’d always been a clear, ocean blue or they glowed, brightly incandescent.

“Don’t ask now. Promise, I’ll explain later.”

His earnest expression made Arthur capitulate. Swallowing hard, he removed his belt watching Merlin bend to unbuckle his boots. He swallowed again, staring at the curve of that pert little arse. They’d never spoken of it, _never_ but he’d always been aware of Merlin, always craved him but learned long ago to govern his desire. Nothing physical between them could last and he needed Merlin far too much to destroy everything with an affair. However, the attraction never went away.

His tunic blinded him coming off; when he could see again, Merlin was nude and heading toward Arthur to help him undress. Hard cock bobbing before him, he paused glancing over his shoulder at the sun slanting steeply through the window. Turning back, urgency seemingly doubled, he pushed Arthur toward the bed until the back of his knees struck and he fell back on the mattress.

Hands, nimble from years of practice, had Arthur unlaced faster than he could manage himself then Merlin went to his knees, taking Arthur’s breeches with him. He tugged each leg hard enough to take off the boot below. Rising, he pushed the King further back on the bed before straddling his legs.

Arthur’s arousal soared at being manhandled. Who knew he had a kink for getting rough? He’d never allowed it before. Merlin muttered, eyes flaring with familiar brightness before subsiding to swirling gold again.

Without another word Merlin bent in half with a display of flexibility that startled an excited gasp from Arthur. Cock harder than he could ever remember, he yelped as Merlin’s full lips engulfed him and began sliding up and down his hardened length. It was the sloppiest blow-job he’d ever received. Merlin drooled all over his cock, hot liquid pooling at the base and pouring over his sensitive balls. 

The reason for the slickness became apparent when Merlin uncoiled from his crouch, rose on his knees and impaled himself on Arthur’s spit-slicked cock. He immediately began to rise and fall at a relentless pace that had Arthur shouting in shocked ecstasy. Fantasizing what Merlin might feel like squeezed around his flesh couldn’t compare to reality. It was, like Merlin, _fucking magical_.

Clenched hard around him, each stroke dragged against Arthur with incredible friction despite the saliva lubricating his cock. His balls tightened too quickly; he knew he wasn’t going to last. However, it was Merlin’s stated intention to swiftly get Arthur’s seed inside him, so he didn’t try to hold on. Head thrown back, groaning helplessly, he let go, exploding inside the heated flesh gripping him tight.

Gasping, “Thank gods!” Merlin reached for himself, just a few strokes had him spilling over Arthur’s chest. Collapsing, he flattened Arthur to the mattress. Minutes passed as they lay dripping with cum, panting, shaking, coming down from the frantic coupling.

“Gonna explain now?”

“Um, I was a little late in realizing the century was turning.”

“Century turned months ago, why the urgency? And why did it necessitate me _fucking_ you?”

“Every hundred years, on Mid-Summer’s Day, before the sun reaches its zenith, the King must renew the land’s fertility by blessing the chosen receptacle with his seed or the realm will waste like the Perilous lands.”

“ _You’re_ the chosen receptacle?” 

“Albion’s most powerful priest of the Old Religion, so yeah, _me._ ”

Arthur thought a moment before wrapping an arm around Merlin’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Thank gods it wasn’t Morgana!”

* * *

**39**

Gwaine jumped as the door opened. He crouched behind some pallets, holding his breath as he listened to the intruder. 

He crept forward and peered around. The guy looked human, not healthy, but alive underneath the grime. The guy looked around, scavenging, and Gwaine knew he’d find Gwaine’s meagre stash of supplies before long. He couldn’t afford to lose them, so he stood up. 

“Hey.” 

The man swirled around, eyes wide with panic. Gwaine held up his hands. 

“Just wanted to let you know that’s my stuff, and you can keep your hands off it.” 

“Oh.” The guy looked at a loss. “Ok. Alright. Can I at least kip here tonight?”

Gwaine approached the man – he was tall, with unkempt wavy blonde hair, and a beard. 

“Gwaine.” He said, offering a hand.

“Leon.” The man said, looking down at the hand as if he’d not seen one before. He reached out and clasped it hesitantly. Gwaine’s skin tingled at the contact – it had been a long time since he’d seen another human alive, never mind shaken their hand. 

###

Leon was quiet, which suited Gwaine just fine. He didn’t ask about Gwaine’s past, didn’t offer his own story. He just made himself useful and then ran through some stretches every afternoon. 

“Yoga?” Gwaine asked, watching Leon bend over and touch his toes. 

“Yes. It helps.” Leon said, “with the nightmares.” And continued his movements. Gwaine just grunted, and carried on sharpening his knife.

###

“Teach me.” Gwaine said, one morning. His eyes were aching and his throat scratchy from lack of sleep. He was fed up of Leon’s pitying eyes and offers to take more watch whenever he woke up fighting off his blankets, sometimes slicing them with the knife he slept with. Leon’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ of shock, before nodding. 

“First, breathing.”

“I can do that – I’m good at that.” Gwaine tried to lighten the situation. 

“Yeah, but you’re doing it wrong.” Leon pressed his hands against Gwaine’s stomach. 

“You need to use your stomach – try to spread my hands.” Gwaine tried to focus on that – not the warmth of Leon’s fingers, the feel of his breath on Gwaine’s face. 

### 

Gwaine supposed it was bound to happen, lying on the makeshift bed with Leon’s blonde hair tickling his chin. 

It had started with an attack Gwaine had jumped awake when a hand touched his shoulder. Leon was right in front of him, finger to his lips. In the distance, Gwaine heard the shuffle-grunt that mean whatevers were on the prowl. 

They had grabbed their weapons and waited. The shuffling got closer, accompanied by the clatter of things being knocked over. Gwaine stayed still, heart thumping loudly. Months ago, he would’ve thrown himself out there, baying for blood. Now he stood ready, but waiting. 

They had broken the door down. Gwaine swung his knife. Once he made the first blow he’d lost the element of surprise and they were ready for it, attempting to claw and bite at him. He was aware of Leon coming up behind him swinging what turned out to be a claw hammer. 

Between them they had managed to fend them off, shutting the door and dragging whatever they could to make a barricade. Gwaine had been glad once again that the room had windows too small to crawl through.

Leon had been splattered in blood, panting like he’d run miles. Gwaine could feel something dripping down the side of his face. There was a moment of tense quiet and then they moved together, grabbing at each other, biting at lips and necks. 

It was violent, overlaid with fear and left over adrenaline. They’d rutted together – Gwaine pressed uncomfortably against a pallet. Gwaine grunted as he came, jerking against Leon. Leon had followed him with a gasp. 

Gwaine’s legs had all but given out at that point and he and Leon crawled to the pile of dirty sheets that made the bed. 

They’d never slept at the same time before and it took a while for Gwaine to unbend and for Leon to curl around him.

“We’ll have to move.” Leon offered. They knew the hiding place now, and it wasn’t safe. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine said, mind focused on the ‘we’. Like it was a given. Gwaine assumed it was, for the moment. “Out of the city, first light tomorrow.”

* * *

**40**

Merlin trembles under his hands. He’s almost completely obscured in darkness and Arthur can only see the faint outlines of his face now that his eyes have adjusted to the near pitch black room. Running one hand over the smooth skin of Merlin’s chest, he lets his fingers follow the long expanse of neck before he comes to cup the face he wishes he could see. The sharp longing makes him push into Merlin almost angrily and he feels Merlin’s jaw work under the strain of keeping quiet. 

He remembers a time when he’d lay Merlin down on their bed, kissing his way down and down until Merlin pulled at his hair. Deliberately taking his time, Arthur would kiss the inside of his thighs and the jut of his hipbone, the tip of his tongue fluttering softly until Merlin would say _Arthur_ in a way that was meant to be berating, but came out as a breathy moan instead. And Arthur would smile and wrap his lips around the head of Merlin’s cock, swirling his tongue in the way that made Merlin writhe against the sheets, his hips pressing up into Arthur’s touch. 

The memory makes Arthur slow his rhythm, wrapping an arm around Merlin to push him closer as he gives a slow, almost tender, thrust. Oddly, or perhaps not oddly at all, this is what makes Merlin lose control of the silence they so desperately try to cling to. He whimpers softly, his fingers digging into Arthur’s back, and Arthur buries his face into Merlin’s neck, pressing a soothing kiss to damp skin. 

“Ssh,” he whispers and even the small hiss of sound makes them both tense. 

They know the guards are out there, that the small room Merlin’s magic had created in the wall under the pretense of doing maintenance on it can easily be discovered and they’d both be worse than dead. It’s always like this – this hurried, silent meeting that’s just enough to scratch the itch, but never _enough_. Pressing his lips to Merlin’s jaw, Arthur tries not to let the anger at the situation ruin another one of their rare moments. He holds Merlin tightly to him, quickening his rhythm until he’s so close to forgetting everything but the feeling of shuddering breaths against his ear and having Merlin under him, around him, kissing him until it seems entirely possible that they could crawl into each other and stay there. 

Merlin comes quietly, shuddering and arching up into Arthur’s chest, their kiss breaking. It’s too dark to see, but Arthur can imagine the way Merlin’s lips part, his breath coming in trembling sighs. Arthur tries to remember how Merlin would shout his name, moan, keen, and swear – always swear. There’s something breathtaking in the way Merlin just shudders quietly, but Arthur misses the way his name would sound on Merlin’s lips when he came. He tries to recall it as his body tenses with relief, muffling his soft moan against Merlin’s shoulder. 

When he finally lifts his head, Merlin’s fingers slip into his hair, pulling him close until their lips are barely touching. 

“I wish I could see you,” Arthur whispers in a voice that is barely there, muffled against Merlin’s lips. 

The fingers in his hair rub softly against his scalp: soothing, familiar patterns. “You will,” Merlin mouths back. “Soon. Morgana’s working on it.”

Arthur wishes he could believe it. He wishes he could believe that the magic camp will figure out a way to break their separation, because his camp seems to be fighting a losing battle. 

“Tell us if you need help. Diversions,” he says, trying to keep his words as succinct and quiet as possible. 

Merlin nods, pauses a little and Arthur can feel his eyes on him even in the dark. “It will work. I promise.” Merlin’s words are pressed to his lips like a kiss and Arthur lets himself smile.

* * *

**41**

**Warning(s):** sexual favours as payment

 

Two generations past, the world ended in a battle lost to dragonsbreath and witchfire and the flint-flame at the hand of Man unwilling to bow to either side. Cities decimated, homesteads burned, society sundered from civilized law and freedom for all until all that was left was a sort of Wild West justice and survival of the fittest.

During every hard year of Arthur Pendragon's life, there were whispers of a saviour, a man who could bend the dragons to his will and shatter sorcerous curses with a wave of his hand. And every year, the skies remained dark with dragons, the land continued to be tormented with black magic, and a heart once full of hope died a little more.

Then, one day, Arthur learned that the man had a name.

_Emrys._

The name alone stirred a yearning long believed gone. It plagued Arthur's dreams. Night after night, he would wake drenched in sweat and drowning with desire, his cock so hard and aching that he knew he'd never find true release until he had Emrys around him, moaning in ecstasy.

Arthur's father forbade him from undertaking this fruitless search, and fruitless it was. Hovel after hovel of human habitation. The last reaches of rebellion, starved and mad. Sorcerer's cities where he had to skulk in shadows lest he be found out. Passage through dragon fiefs at twilight and sunrise when their senses were slow and sluggish. Not once had he left any place without needing to fight his way out. 

He was running short of ammunition. His strength was flagging. His faith was fading. But he was too far from home to give up now.

There were eyes on him as he walked through the makeshift main street of yet another ramshackle village. The first kid he caught squirmed and kicked and bit, but when Arthur asked, "Blacksmith?", the kid pointed a finger and was rewarded with freedom.

The smithy was suffocating with welcome heat against the perpetual chill. There was a blaze of billows, of fire lashing and licking like dragonsbreath. There was the steady, rhythmic pound of hammer and the popping hiss of steaming water tempering steel. There was a man in front of the forge, his shoulders broad, his body lean, short black hair in damp, unruly spikes. He wore no apron to cover a sinewy torso, no gloves to protect his hands from the scorching heat. His skin glistened with soot and grease and sweat, every smear highlighting whipcord strength. The muscles in his back rippled with every heft of the hammer, went taut with every strike. The curve of his spine trailed down to a firm ass barely covered by leather pants hanging desperately on narrow hips.

Arthur's mouth went dry at the sight of him. 

The man tossed his work in the quenching trough. "What do you want?"

His voice was a low, low rumble, like a sleepy dragon awakening. Arthur swallowed hard. He knew better than to ask for ammunition in a place like this -- every bullet was worth a daughter's dowry. Instead, he said, "I've a splint in my sword."

"Give it here, then."

The man left his hammer on the table. He pulled the black goggles from his eyes to study the blade. "A few hours of work. You can pay?"

Arthur froze at those bright, beautiful blue eyes, those sharp cheekbones, those red, full lips. He knew them from his dreams.

_Emrys._

"I can pay," Arthur said, but his hand didn't drift toward the cut brass he had hidden on his person. Instead, his eyes followed the trail of fine black hair down the blacksmith's chest. 

"I take payment up front."

When Arthur looked up, Emrys wore a small smirk on his lips and his head was tilted toward a door.

Arthur was so aroused that he could barely walk to follow Emrys to a small, back room with little else but a cot and a wash bowl. He was on his knees with Emrys against the wall, leather breeches tugged down around his thighs, Emrys' cock already angry and red and aching for release, before either of them could change their minds.

"Fuck, you're really gagging for it, aren't you?" Emrys' eyes were a blue so black they gleamed, and Arthur thought he saw a glimmer of gold before Emrys grabbed his hair and _yanked_ , guiding Arthur toward his cock.

_For you. Only for you._

Arthur swallowed him down.

* * *

**42**

**Warnings:** Animal traits and slight Dub-con

 

“The Fence” kept the wasteland and its mutated horrors at bay and yet Uther’s obsession over “ _Reclaiming the Earth!_ ” had caused him to ignore the bigger picture. Arthur’s decision to hand the City Marshal’s position to Morgana was almost entirely because of his father's preoccupation with war, and the determination to see that something would survive it besides walking corpses.

 

So now he taught History and Survival to children while his father created a genetically altered humans into an army that was immune to infection. A secret army of powerful and highly distracting people like Merlin who just showed up one day at Arthur’s shelter and never left. Unlike the other felinoid soldiers his slitted eyes were dual colored, one gold and one blue, rather than green. He was the most territorial, cheerful, and dedicatedly protective bastard Arthur had ever had the misfortune to meet.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed furiously. “How did the horde get past the Fence and just _**what**_ are they doing so far into the city?” A shadow detached from the corner to stalk forward with casual grace.

 

“Cenred has a research facility nearby. He’s claimed to be able to handle its spilled milk.” Merlin answered lazily. That _would_ explain things...

 

Arthur gave a resigned sigh. “Yes, alright then. Go ahead.”

….. _Later_.....

Arthur’s patrol of the perimeter eventually took him to a storage room where he found Merlin washing the blood from his naked body, a playful expression on his face. He managed to get the door shut and locked behind him before the felinoid is on him, backing him against the wall while fingers squeezed and dug teasingly into his hips.

 

“I killed them. I killed them all and left your crest on the wall in their blood.” Merlin preened.

 

“Christ!” Arthur groaned, head tilted back and exasperated. “Cenred isn’t going to take that well.”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin interrupted, voice honey dark and so _very_ pleased with himself. “I missed you.”

 

Merlin’s mouth glided along the length of his throat where his bottom lip caught and dragged against the sensitive flesh there. Arthur couldn’t help but shiver at the gentle gust of breath across the slightly damp skin. There was a pleased rumble and then he was being nuzzled as a wet mouth and tiny fangs nipped at the curve of his jaw.

 

“No you didn’t.” Arthur muttered, distracted. He was hypnotized by the glint of hooped metal in the top of Merlin’s delicately pointed ear. Sometimes It was hard to remember that Merlin really was still a man, and not actually a giant cat.

 

Merlin’s teasing grip was suddenly firm on his thighs and Arthur’s spread open, lifted so his legs rested against his hips, and flush against the heat and compact strength of the felinoids body. His surprised exclamation is caught in a lazy kiss that set his body writhing against Merlin’s and had his cock filling in slow, hot pulses against the rough cloth of his cargo pants.

 

“Of course I missed you.” Merlin crooned. “I always miss you. You’re _mine/i >.”_

 

Arthur scoffed but there was no denying how utterly pliant he was in Merlin’s arms, or how easily he’s manipulated by the man. It’s downright embarrassing how much Merlin’s got away with in the time they’ve known each other. Arthur’s pants were already open and sliding down and the stone wall cold and uncomfortable where it scraped against his bare skin. Merlin continued to purr nonsense in his ear and his hands kneaded at the plump curve of Arthur’s arse, at least until his fingers encountered the slick wetness there. Merlin stilled and fell silent, pushed Arthur tight against the wall and brought one hand up to eye level so they both could see the liquid gleaming on his suddenly extended claws.

 

Arthur watched his pupils narrow into thin, black slits before the claw ripped, and rent the cloth between them until the thick fabric hung in tattered shreds around his legs. He was caught in the unnatural focus of Merin’s gaze with barely enough time to brace before he was being pressed open by the thick, blunt pressure of Merlin’s cock.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Arthur knew it’d be like this, he _needed_ it like this. Always.

* * *

**43**

Warnings: non-con/dub-con

Merlin arched his body, half screaming, half sobbing, as the pain tore through him one more time. Arthur was above him. He could feel the heat – the scorching, _blistering_ heat – radiating off of his body, soaking into his very skin and making the air too thick to breathe.

“Shh,” Arthur murmured, his lips pressed to Merlin’s ear, and Merlin flinched. He scrabbled at the dirt as Arthur’s fingers dragged across his flesh, removing his clothing. “I’ve got you, Merlin. Just hold on.”

This, all of this, the hypersensitivity, the raw _power_ boiling up in him, overflowing the boundary of his physical body – he should have listened to Arthur. He shouldn’t have touched the crystal. _He knew better._

But he had, and then she had appeared, a transparent figure dressed in white, telling him things about power and amplifier and devastation and that dreadful, unfamiliar word: _Armageddon._

“You have to get the power out,” Arthur said above him, rolling him over onto his stomach. Merlin cried out when the tender skin of him stomach and his cock brushed against the too dry, too sharp leaves on the forest floor. “She said you had to get it out. I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m so so sorry.”

Merlin cried, then, a sob torn from his raw throat, but he nodded and gripped the loose dirt under his fingertips as hard as he could, pressing his face into the ground and hoping the pain would help distract him, because he knew the pain hadn’t really begun.

And then it did. Arthur – beautiful, noble Arthur – took the worst of it away. Merlin knew this. Arthur stretched him and slicked him. He stroked him until he was so hard he wished to die, and then Arthur spread him and pushed inside.

It hurt too much, his inner walls being pressed like that, and he tried to scream but he didn’t think any sound came out. As bad as the pain was, however, he could feel something happening. The more Arthur fucked him, the more something seemed to drag out of him.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked, breathless. His thrusts didn’t slow, but he lifted Merlin’s hips a bit and slid a hand under to wrap around his prick. “Merlin, talk to me. Please.”

It was the _please_ that did it. He’d never heard Arthur say it, and he nodded frantically. “More,” he said. “Arthur, don’t stop.”

Arthur pressed his lips to the back of Merlin’s neck, then began pounding, creating a desperate friction, a push and pull, and Merlin could feel that horrible, _poisonous_ power inside him fading, leeching into Arthur, through Arthur, into the ground, the air…it was being pulled out of him and he could breathe. The ground no longer felt too rough, Arthur’s cock no longer painful.

“Yes,” he hissed out, canting his hips and allowing Arthur deeper.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Arthur gasped as he slid in, his balls pressing between Merlin’s legs. Merlin could feel him inside, filling him until everything felt right and perfect.

And then they were both coming, slipping over the edge and gasping and crying in pleasure.

Arthur pulled out when he came back to himself. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” he said, and Merlin realized there were tears dripping onto his back. “Oh, gods, I’m so sorry.”

When Arthur tried to stand, Merlin reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down. He curled around Arthur, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck and inhaling, breathing in the scent of metal and sweat and sex.

“No,” he said. He felt Arthur relax, marginally, and curl towards him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t do that again.”

Merlin shook his head. His body was still trembling and it was too much to speak, but Arthur seemed to understand. 

“Sleep,” he said. 

Merlin closed his eyes and drifted off. He lay in Arthur’s arms and dreamt of golden love.

* * *

**44**

Fall-Out  
Warning: Violence 

“Let her go.” 

Gwen was panicked, scared and trying not to show it and Lancelot was a lot like a knight on a white horse. Her dress mess and there was a hand print in mud around her throat and she’d never felt less like a princess. 

Raiders were the worst kind of people, rape, murder, cannibalism, and the occasional bout of selling people into slavery when they needed more caps for **jet** to feed the addiction. 

There was a howl and one of the men screamed falling to the ground his gun going off in a _pop pop pop_ of automatic .22 shot. Merlin tore his throat out with his fangs. The green arc of Excalibur, Arthur’s side arm, slammed into one of the men’s chest and the smell of burning flesh filled the bright afternoon. The man holding her dropped his guard to reach for a better weapon and Gwen had his knife out of his hand and buried in his lungs. 

Before Morgana found the name ‘Gwen’ in a charred children’s book her name had simply been ‘Fetch’ because she wandered around collecting scrap for her father. Sometimes she would slip up and do something unlady-like despite all of Morgana’s tutelage. Daintily Gwen stepped out of the way of most of the blood, leaving the knife in his lungs to keep it from spraying on her skirts. The roar of Lancelot’s .45 was deafening. 

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked her, even as frowned as Merlin nosed one of the corpses over, muzzle stained with blood and catching the edge of some medicine between his teeth, shaking his great head until it came free of the dead Raider’s pocket. Lancelot didn’t share Arthur’s distaste, pocketing the loot with a small smile for Merlin’s efforts. 

“Fine.” Gwen gave a little curtsey. 

They set off again. Three months ago Morgana had babbled something out dragons and wandered off into the dessert. 

In the dessert the nights were as cold as the days hot. The Rad-Scorpions were kept at bay by the fire. The constant radioactive haze blocked the sky but Gwen had seen a much coveted photo of the stars that Morgana had shown her, they always seemed to reflect in her eyes. Arthur was curled up tight against Merlin. Arthur hated Merlin’s hound form but Merlin preferred it, Gwen knew his human form, he was rail thin and knobby like a youth but eyes as old as the sands around New Vegas. Gwen believed him when he said he saw the end of the world in both future and past tense. 

“She’ll like you.” Gwen said, kissing Lancelot’s neck, smoothing over his beard with her cheek and mouthing at his lips. “My knight.” He gripped her hips as she sat on him and hummed low in his chest. It rumbled through her delightfully. 

“I’m sure I’ll treasure her too.” Lancelot mumbled against her lips. Gwen wanted that, her Lady and her Knight and their King and his Pet. 

Merlin raised his head, eyes glowing eerie-gold in the firelight but he didn’t move and Arthur didn’t stir. Lancelot stopped but Gwen smiled at Merlin, turning back to lift one of Lancelot’s hands to her breasts. They had just found him and he didn’t quite understand yet. 

“It’s okay.” Gwen crooned; biting his lips as his fingers hesitantly fondled her through her dress. She was willing to show him how things worked. 

It took some rearranging, shifting herself up on him so he could mouth at a nipple as she undid his pants around the gun holsters. Despite his reluctance he was hard. He gave a muffled whine when she toyed with the slit with just the ends of her fingers letting the calluses from metal work catch and drag. The rocks bit into her knees when she lowered herself on him. The rush of friction, of being filled made her gasp softly, breathing shallow and just feeling. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Lancelot gasped against her throat, kissing the edge of one of the bruises the Raider had left when he caught her. “Gwen.”

They rocked together in the firelight as Arthur slept and Merlin watched, muffling gasps and whines against each other’s mouths. Gwen came with a shiver that shot down her spine and made her moan shoving down hard. Lancelot’s eyes went wide, feet shifting against the ground as he desperately tried to push up into her. 

She stole his voice with a kiss and he groaned against her.

* * *

**45**

By the time Merlin arrives, Camelot is empty, save for the ashes, and the charred, skeletal remains of houses and shops. Even the castle in the distance is a ruin, a dry, burnt out husk, a monument to its dead king.

"We'll be safer here; the fires are out, and it looks deserted." Merlin unlaces his pack and smiles to hear a tiny chirp from inside, then to see a little white head peek out around the edge. "Maybe it'll even rain soon, Aithusa."

To make up for the long journey hidden inside the pack, Merlin lets the baby dragon play. Aithusa hops from Merlin's lap to the ground, attempting to fly, and hops back up, undefeated, until he's tired enough to curl against Merlin.

"If there's danger, try to fly away, or hide," Merlin reminds Aithusa before he falls asleep.

*

"Was this your home?"

Merlin wakes with a cough and finds himself at the wrong end of a very sharp sword.

"Was it? Wake up and tell me." The boy holding the sword doesn't look much older than Merlin, maybe some dead knight's squire, just at the brink of knighthood himself; his expression softens when Merlin coughs again. "I'm guessing no, or you'd be used to sleeping in the ashes."

"It's not; I'm sorry, we--I needed to rest." He looks around in a panic and sighs with relief to feel the gentle rise and fall of Aithusa's breathing inside his pack. 

"We?" The boy slides his sword back into its sheath and steps back from Merlin. A fine layer of ash blurs his appearance, but the gold of his hair, the blue of his eyes, and the fine line of his profile are unmistakable.

Merlin's found the prince, but he's found him too late.

*

"The spells broke as soon as my father died. He always believed he kept the dragons in check, not magic. I suppose he was right." Arthur stops on the dusty path up to the castle and tugs at the leather thong around his neck. "Nobody recognizes me. I grew up in Tintagel."

"I watched the priestesses scrying, I've seen you." Merlin stares for a moment and fingers the outline of the great dragon on Arthur's signet ring. "If only I could've been here sooner, if my father could've come, too."

"The dragonlords." Arthur steals away Merlin's chance to reveal his secret; when Merlin lets Aithusa peer out of his pack, he offers his hand to hold the dragon. "Can this little one really help save us? He's tiny."

"He's called Aithusa. And, yes." 

*

"Why are you here?" Arthur's shoulder nudges against Merlin's. They're sleeping in the queen's apartments, moonlight slanting through the windows onto their pile of blankets on the floor. 

Merlin rubs his bare foot against Arthur's, shifts so their legs touch from hip to ankle, relishes the feeling of Arthur's strong, lean body next to his. "The countyside is wasted. The villages, the fields… Aithusa hatched after the dragonfire destroyed Ealdor, but nobody would understand that he's too young to cause such destruction." 

"You could've gone anywhere. You've been to the Isle of the Blessed. We might not even survive here." 

Merlin turns to his side and skims his fingers up Arthur's chest. He doesn't want anything more than to touch Arthur, to feel his skin and steady heartbeat, but then Arthur frowns. His brow knits together and his mouth turns down, and all Merlin can think of doing in that moment is to press his mouth to Arthur's. 

The kiss is dry and awkward until Arthur yields with a sigh and parts his lips. Warmth blooms inside Merlin, unfolding inside his stomach and reaching through him to urge him closer and closer to Arthur. 

Arthur flushes as he fumbles at Merlin's breeches, his fingers clumsy with the first rush of want. 

"We don't--" Merlin says, tries to stop Arthur, tries to stop himself.

But Arthur only says "we do, we do," his breath and his hands hot on Merlin's skin.

*

Merlin wakes up to a pale, chilly dawn and the sound of rain pattering against the castle walls and onto the dust and ash outside. 

Arthur stands at a window, Aithusa perched on his shoulder, and turns when he hears Merlin stir. 

"You are my king," Merlin says and takes his place next to Arthur to watch the rain fall over Camelot.

* * *

**46**

“Let me in Merlin, we need to talk,” Arthur’s voice implored, muffled through the thick wood of the front door. 

Merlin sank to the floor, his back against the foyer wall as he stared ahead sightlessly.

“Go away Arthur,” he replied unsteadily, “I’m sick of looking at your face.”

“That is a complete and utter lie and you know it,” Arthur complained. Merlin would bet everything he owned that Arthur had rolled his eyes in exasperation just then. “If we’re to face battle tomorrow, I want to do it knowing that we’re alright.”

“I’m not letting you in Arthur.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Morgana has raised the dead! Skeleton armies are wreaking havoc across all of Albion. Immortal soldiers are bringing parliament down to its knees,” there was a desperate edge to Arthur's voice; “It feels like half the world is burning, people are calling it the end of days.”

“End of Days?” Merlin laughed mockingly, “It sounds like a Tuesday afternoon to me.” Merlin could feel himself breaking apart as he laughed, his tone becoming slightly hysterical. He took a deep breath before angling his head to look at the door. “I can’t see you Arthur,” he stated, “Not if you’re going to disappear for another 70 years. It hurts too much.”

\------

The next thing Merlin knew his door was slamming open and Arthur was crowding him against his foyer wall, kissing him over and over like breathing was a foreign concept that had no place in creating space between them.

Merlin gripped Arthur’s golden hair and pulled him closer, panting as those sinful lips pulled away from his own to leave a trail of spine tingling kisses down the sensitive curve of his neck.

“Is this a good idea?” Merlin questioned, as Arthur tugged him further into the flat, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

“With me this is always a good idea,” Arthur muttered, abandoning the futile challenge of stripping whilst walking in favour of pressing his heavy erection against Merlin's, grinding them against each other in a rhythm of mutual pleasure. 

Merlin moaned into Arthur’s mouth, arms encircled around his neck as he pushed his body nearer, an unconscious flash of his eyes loosening their clothes enough for them to be shed quickly from their bodies.

“Handy,” Arthur chuckled into Merlin's ear before bending him over the couch to press his tongue against Merlin's opening. The only thing still left on his body; his boots. 

\------

“Stay here, with me, just for a little bit longer,” Merlin pleaded as he watched Arthur dress, broad shoulders bathed in the faint light of dawn.

If it wasn’t for the unnatural quietness of the city below, Merlin could have even fooled himself into believing it was a lazy Sunday morning. Instead the absence of birdsong and regular Sunday traffic created an atmosphere of sustained tension, as if the city itself was waiting for an explosion of violence to tear through its heart.

Arthur shook his head slightly as grappled with his snug leather costume, the ostentatious red and gold of the Captain Albion uniform searing offensively into Merlins retinas. He had thought the uniform was stupid the first time he’d seen it a lifetime ago; not much had changed with time.

Merlin smiled to himself bitterly. “That’s right, Captain Albion off to save the world again,” the harshness in his voice froze Arthur in his tracks. “Just do me a favour, yeah?” Merlin continued, “Don’t promise me you’ll be coming back, because we both know how that turns out.”

Arthur clenched his teeth fiercely causing the muscle in his jaw to tick, his entire body coiling in preparation for hostility.   
“Albion needs us today _Emrys_ ,” Arthur bit out into the hush. “Percy may be a demigod and Lance might be a giant rage monster, but they won’t be able to fight Morgana alone. Someone needs to protect Camelot and the people that are still left here.”

 _Emrys_. Arthur used the moniker like an insult, disrespectful of the persona that Merlin had adopted to hide himself from the public and Arthur alike. 

“You were gone a long time Arthur,” Merlin stated resentfully, “A lot changes in 70 years.”

“It wasn’t just 70 years Merlin,” Arthur said turning his face away from view, “It was 70 years and 9 months and 3 days.” 

Merlin took a deep shuddering breath in surprise, his whole body tensing as if waiting for a physical blow.

“And those last 9 months… they were your fault.”

* * *

**47**

“We can’t continue like this, Sire,” Gaius said, setting fresh wet cloth on Arthur’s feverish brow.

“Magic has no place in my kingdom, Gaius, and you very well know that,” Uther said.

“They’ll both die. And probably take all of us with them.”

“It’s just one night,” Uther said.

“It’s solstice, Sire. The powers of nature are on their highest. Magic of the land roams free. The prophecy of the once and future king and his warlock speaks clearly. On the twenty fifth summer solstice of warlock’s life, he will be bound to his king.”

“The bindings cut him off his magic.”

“He can’t use it, yes, but it calls to him still,” Gaius said. 

The ground trembled under their feet and Arthur stirred, moaning Merlin’s name. He was trying to open his eyes, tugging at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. 

“I can’t give him more of the potion. It could kill him,” Gaius said.

They could see lightning through the tightly closed windows, thunder rumbling almost constantly. The door to the adjacent chamber burst open and gut-wrenching cry went through. The whole castle shook. A vase fell from the table, shattering on the ground.

“Merlin,” Arthur called, fully awake now.

He took in his situation, fighting his bindings until the one holding his right wrist snapped. Uther caught the hand, pressing it against the mattress. 

“It will pass, son,” Uther was saying. “Just a few more hours.”

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped, new beads of sweat trailing down his face. “I need...”

His hips bucked up and the thin sheet covering his body did nothing to mask his arousal.

All the windows crashed open, letting in the wild wind and pouring rain. Another agonized cry came from the other room and Gaius left to check on his traitorous ward.

“Merlin,” Arthur cried out, ripping his hand from his father’s grasp and lifting himself up a bit before Uther used his weight to push him back down again.

One of his legs was bleeding from where the bindings cut into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Father, please, he needs me,” Arthur pleaded. “I love him,” he shouted over the sound of thunder.

“It’s just the magic talking,” Uther said, running his fingers through his son’s hair.

“I gave him my mother’s ring two months ago,” Arthur said, desperation shining through his eyes. “I’ve loved him for years.”

Uther’s grip faltered.

Ygraine’s ring.

The ring he gave her.

The ring she pressed to Arthur’s small palm with her last breath.

He looked down at his son, Ygraine’s features so clear in his face, his eyes full of devotion and longing.

There was no other choice but to let go.

~x~

Arthur stumbled through the room into the next, quickly climbing on the bed where Merlin was lying, deathly pale and barely breathing. Gaius handed him the key to the shackles around Merlin’s wrists and ankles and then backed out of the room.

The moment last shackle hit the floor, Merlin’s eyes flew open, flaring gold. Both of their clothes dissolved into nothing and Arthur was forcefully flipped on his back. Before he could process anything, Merlin was lowering himself on his cock.

The moment he was fully seated, everything went completely quiet. No wind or rain, no lightning and thunder.

The gold from Merlin’s eyes was slowly fading, giving way to the familiar shade of blue.

“i love you,” Merlin whispered, leaning down to kiss Arthur on the lips.

~x~

Their lovemaking was slow and sensuous, languid climb to the peak of pleasure, unhurried touches and exploring kisses.

“Forever,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s ear right before they both reached their orgasm.

Gold of Merlin’s magic washed over them both, leaving behind a link that could not be broken.

“Forever,” Arthur whispered back.

* * *

**48**

Arthur is a Gen+. It means: he’s a soldier, lacks the “magic” genetics, is authorised to make routine excavations into space.

He was a child prodigy, so smart his father feared he’d be used up. He remembers the relief in his father’s eyes after he’d gotten tested, came back sterile. He’s not afforded the pretense of society as allotted to civilians, and the other option doesn’t bear thinking about. It’s far better to be a soldier, to have mobility. He’s still on a leash, but his extends into outer space and removed from the wreckage of earth, he feels this sliver of hope that their species will somehow survive.

He lives for those missions, away from earth where his job is to round up ProGens like cattle. He has nightmares of the self-immolation of the Druids -- a peaceful group of ProGens that took to the fringe and, in the end, set themselves on fire rather than be led back in.

Arthur’s been trained with a gun in his hand since he was six. He was in the field at fifteen, leading men at twenty-one. He’s as close to machine as he can get -- enhanced parts, abnormal survival rates without sustenance, no feelings he’s a slave to; they trained it out of him, beat him until the urge was squeezed out like pus from a sore.

Something about Merlin shocks him awake as if he’s been sleepwalking his entire life. Merlin has the magic gene that somehow managed to withstand the radiation’s effects. He’s also a prodigy. Both mean he should be brought in, penned up.

"Get inside," Arthur says. He shoves Merlin against the closed door with his hips and stares into those incredibly blue eyes. One hand trails up beneath Merlin’s shirt, unerringly goes to the single, round scar where Arthur shot him that first mission he was sent on to bring Merlin in.

Arthur slides his thumb between Merlin's lips, tries to process the urges hurtling through him. He's torn between arousal and disgust at his own body. His thumb eases out with no suction to stop it -- Merlin is artless, probably every bit as cold as he is. Arthur can’t hear over the sudden rush of blood in his ears, and he smashes their lips together clumsily. He's never done this before, never been interested in putting his hands all over someone else's body, licking the sweat in the crook of their neck.

His body’s been honed since he was a child, and yet the mechanics of something that should be primal elude him, can’t override the burn of his memories straining against the surface. He pushes Merlin down to his knees. It occurs to him that Merlin’s never done this either, but rather it be him that figures things out. Arthur needs all his wits just to breathe through this.

Merlin eases his fly down with shaking fingers and wraps a too dry hand around him.

Arthur shakes his head. “Your lips,” he grunts out.

Merlin swallows hard before leaning in, taking Arthur into the sweet, wet heat of his mouth. He pauses there, trying to acclimate to the feel of Arthur inside, stretching him, and the tease is unbearable. Arthur snaps his hips forward, needs the friction, and Merlin chokes around him which makes it _better_.

When he comes, he slides to the floor, legs unsteady. He unholsters the gun strapped to Merlin’s thigh and makes quick work of the uniform buttons, before covering Merlin’s body with his own. He wraps his hand around himself, before sliding his slickened fingers around Merlin, pumping so quickly as to be obscene.

After, Arthur’s hand hovers over Merlin’s face, suddenly afraid to touch. “God, what are we going to do?”

“Take me with you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You know what they’d do to you.”

“Not inside. I can do more good out there,” he insists, points to the ceiling.

Merlin is too valuable. He needs to be farmed, studied. He’s not expendable as a soldier the way Arthur is. He shakes his head slowly, says, “You can’t.”

“You don’t understand. Every night I hear this voice _calling_ me. It led me to you. It says I can help.”

“We’ve been here too long,” is his only response.

Merlin scrambles out from beneath Arthur’s loose hold, shrugs quickly into his clothes. He says in a voice far older than he is, “You’ll find me again, and we’ll do this together,” and slips out the door.

* * *


	3. Group C (with warnings)

**49**

Merlin, shaking and gasping for breath, clung to the damp open collar of Arthur’s oxford shirt. It was dirty, caked with mud and something that Merlin didn’t want to think about but, because underneath all that was Arthur’s hard chest, dusted lightly with dark blond hair, and heaving with his own shuddered breath, Merlin wouldn’t let go.

Couldn’t.

He needed this. Needed the reminder that he was alive and capable of feeling human emotions. Needed to know that, against all odds, they had made it this long, this far.

He needed to feel Arthur push his hard cock in, in, _in_ until he couldn’t go any further, only to pull completely out before shoving back inside hard.

Arthur wrapped his fingers tight around Merlin’s prick and squeezed. His tongue licked at Merlin’s open mouth before slipping inside to taste the inside of his mouth. Merlin moaned, filthy, and arched his back when Arthur’s other hand pressed into the small of his back.

Merlin dug his socked feet into Arthur’s back and let his head knock back against the cool basement wall with a thud. Arthur attached his mouth to Merlin’s neck, sucking and biting and licking, making Merlin tremble with need. His fingers slid into Arthur’s hair, pulling at the strands and rubbing them through his fingers, while Arthur continued to thrust into Merlin’s stretched hole, the pleasure-pain sending Merlin’s nerve-endings into overdrive.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur ground out through clenched teeth, his first words since they’d first started groping each other a mere ten minutes ago. They had fled to the basement when the warning sirens had gone off - Merlin abandoning the meal he’d spent most of the afternoon working on, a special one, because he wasn’t sure when they’d have another one, if they ever did - when Arthur had burst through the door. _Now_ , he’d shouted. _Basement. Now._ Hunting must not have gone well.

This act, possibly their final one, had been born out of that deep fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the future they weren’t sure they’d ever have. But Merlin didn’t know if he’d want to spend his last few moments on earth any other way.

“So fucking tight.”

Merlin let the his fingers on his left hand scratch down Arthur’s arm, breaking the skin and marking him, the blood oozing to the surface in tiny beads. “I’m gonna-” Merlin started, and his body shuddered when Arthur sped up the stroke of his hand over his cock, his thumb slipping over his slit each time.

“Do it,” Arthur muttered, breathing into Merlin’s ear before licking the shell. “Come for me.”

When Merlin came, it was too loud, unsafe but he couldn’t stop Arthur’s name from tumbling from his lips in ecstasy.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Arthur grunted with each thrust, before spilling inside of Merlin and groaning against his heated, sweaty neck.

Merlin ran his fingers through Arthur’s wet hair until he lifted his eyes to his. Arthur’s grin was loopy, satisfied, and for a moment, Merlin forgot what was going on outside. As their breathing evened out, Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin’s. It was like so many times before, since he’d met Arthur, but now.

Now, Merlin couldn’t ignore the sounds outside anymore. The crashes and moans, sirens and shouts. Outside, their sleepy town of Camelot, was falling and the fear that Merlin had forgotten for a blissful moment came crashing back into him. His breathing quickened.

“Hey, hey,” Arthur soothed, his hands rubbing up and down Merlin’s back. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, saw how much he loved him and it was enough to make him smile.

Until they heard the crash from upstairs, glass breaking and the table being overturned. Merlin gripped Arthur tightly, holding on, their breathing quickening. “It’ll be okay,” Arthur whispered. “I promise. It’ll be okay.”

The basement door handle jiggled. Then again. There was a shout, deep and unnatural, and then another jiggle at the handle. Moments later, Merlin watched in horror as the door opened, pulled out of the jamb and slid down the staircase as it fell off it’s hinges.

Merlin whimpered when he saw what used to be Leon, their neighbor and Arthur’s childhood friend, standing at the top of the stairs, no longer alive.

Arthur, eyes wide, kissed Merlin. “I love you.”

Merlin cried. “I love you, too.”

* * *

**50**

Warnings: sounding

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur lifted his head, slowly coming to. His eyes were unfocused until Merlin’s hands steadied his face. Then, Arthur looked squarely at him, clarity dawning.

“You drugged me,” he accused hoarsely.

“ _Do you trust me_?” Merlin implored. “I need you to focus, sire.”

Arthur remained quiet for a moment, searching Merlin’s face. Then, he snorted. “You drugged me. I’m immobile, my wrists and ankles bound to a chair. I’m nude.” Arthur went a little red around the ears. “And you’re asking me if I trust you? Merlin, if I didn’t, I’d have called my guards and you’d be dead. You’d better explain this nonsense-”

“Good! Because I need you to trust me or this won’t work.” Merlin lifted one hand from Arthur’s face in favour of wrapping it around his prick. He gripped the base and twisted, working up the skin at Arthur’s shaft.

“Merlin!”

He stroked Arthur’s cheek with his free hand, leaned in, and kissed him. At first, Arthur was too shocked to kiss back, but at Merlin’s insistence, it wasn’t long before the two were licking, sucking, and biting in tandem. Merlin felt Arthur’s body straining against the bonds. In his fist, Arthur’s cock stiffened with every second.

Merlin only broke the kiss to whisper, “Say you trust me.”

“I do.” His mouth wildly sought Merlin’s.

“Say it.”

“ _I trust you_ , Merlin; for god’s sake, I trust you.”

With the first step of the ritual done, Merlin pulled away to retrieve a small metal rod. It was a simple healing spell but not without complications. First, that Arthur would inherently trust him; second, that Arthur would let Merlin purify him in the most intimate of manners; and third, that Arthur would submit to him, wholly and completely.

In the end, the only way to save Arthur’s life was to cleanse him. Merlin wouldn’t let him die. He would save his once and future king.

The rod was already dripping with lubrication by the time Merlin grasped it between his trembling fingers and stroked it up the length of Arthur’s prick. Arthur groaned and tipped his head back, giving Merlin the perfect opportunity to distract him. Merlin sucked on the bob of Arthur’s Adam’s apple, gripped his cock with one hand, and pressed the tip of the slim rod against the slit of Arthur’s prick. It was only when he began to work the rod in that Arthur tensed.

“Swefn pé swefe nu,” Merlin chanted softly, his lips against Arthur’s throat. His eyes flashed gold for one brief second as the spell warmed the rod and eased the way. He sank the entire length into Arthur’s prick, and to his pleasant surprise, Arthur moaned when it bottomed out. It was almost enough to distract Merlin, who felt his own length stir at the feel of Arthur’s prick beneath his fingers, the way his king’s body shook, the sounds Arthur let loose that made his stomach clench and his chest ache.

Carefully, Merlin began to move the sound with lethargic strokes: in deeply, out slowly. It was key that he purify Arthur entirely, from the inside out.

“Swefn pé swefe nu,” he repeated. Against him, Arthur shuddered. Again and Arthur bucked. Again and Arthur sobbed. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Merlin-”

“ _Tell me you’re mine_.”

Arthur whimpered, the sound of it heating Merlin up like he’d never known. It was even worse as he heard his king complete the verbal part of the ritual by panting, “I’m yours, Merlin, I’m yours,” like a litany.

The air around them crackled and sang. Merlin could feel every pulse of his magic coursing through the sound, into Arthur, through his body, cleansing his soiled, diseased blood, curing him. He whispered an engorgement charm, thickening the rod until Arthur shouted. Every magical throb seemed to strike through Arthur’s prick, the colour of it changing from a healthy pink to a deep red, then purple as his orgasm built.

With Merlin’s name on his gasping lips, Arthur came. Merlin watched the milky fluid bubble up around the slimming sound in thick waves, creaming down the length of his prick, over Merlin’s fingers, to the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, along his balls. Merlin withdrew the sound, allowing a few delicate strokes to help Arthur finish, until his king was shaking and begging for mercy.

The deed done, Merlin pressed his right hand to Arthur’s heart and felt it beating. Healthy. Strong.

* * *

**51**

[ **Warnings:** Consent is dubious, angst is rife, suicidal desire is hinted at. I am a bad person.]

Something wakes Arthur in the dead of night, something hot and sticky in the back of his mind. He dresses distractedly and goes to the dungeons, searching.

'Let me in,' he says to the gaoler. 'Give me your key. And leave.'

His father's latest prisoner is in his cell, huddled in the corner and making soft, huffing breathless noises. Arthur unlocks the door and slips in. 'What's the matter?' he asks, going to touch the man.

He shies away, dark hair flopping into his blue eyes. 'Don't touch me,' he moans. 

But that's just what Arthur has to do, what the burning in his head is telling him to do. 'What's the matter?' he demands. 

'Leave me alone.' says the man. _Please_.'

Arthur bulls in, presses the soft inner skin of his wrist to the man's forehead. 'You're burning up,' he says, and the rational part of him wants to jerk away, the heat is so intense, but just that simple act of _touching_ feels too good to let go of.

''m fine.'

'Liar. You've got a fever, a deadly one.' Arthur should get up and go for Gaius - even condemned prisoners are due medical care. But he still can't talk himself into letting go. 'You'll die.'

The man is panting now. 'Better than a real pyre,' he says, spitting into the straw next to Arthur. 'Damn you, let me go.' His eyes are fixed on Arthur's, though, and he licks his lips as if he doesn't know he's doing it.

'Not until you tell me what's wrong,' says Arthur, fixated on that pink tongue dragging across those soft-looking lips. 'And your name. Tell me your name. I'm Arthur.'

'Merlin,' says the prisoner softly. Arthur's grip tightens involuntarily at the sound of it, and Merlin mewls and bucks, jacknifing from the hips like he's been burnt. The motion makes Arthur look down, and see - see that Merlin's hard and straining in his trousers, and it seems like the right thing, the only thing, to kiss him then, pinned into the straw. 

Merlin falls apart under that, sinks boneless into Arthur's hold and opens his mouth to draw Arthur in, tongue and breath and gasping nonsense words and all. 

Arthur doesn't know what he's doing, this is wrong, this is _wrong_ but he has to do it. He fumbles at Merlin's belt, tears at his trousers - and then Merlin grabs his hand and sucks three fingers into his mouth all at once. 

When he lets go, panting, he says, 'If we have to - please, just do it. I can't do this any more.'

His legs are wide, cradling Arthur, making room so that Arthur can drag his hand all wet and hot between and in, and then Merlin is spitted on him, crying for it, trying to muffle his noise with his hand. Arthur drags it away. 'Tell me,' he says. 'Tell me.'

'Shut up,' says Merlin fiercely. 'Just - do it, Arthur. I'll die if you don't. Just put it in me, _please_.'

Arthur doesn't take orders, but he will happily grant requests. Merlin is like a furnace inside. Arthur loses his head, loses his _mind_ , and straw flies every which-way as he pounds into Merlin, as Merlin cries out and shoves up against him, scrabbling awkwardly at the bared stone of the floor with weak hands, trying to gain some purchase and failing, egging Arthur on. 

He comes against Arthur's belly, but it doesn't seem to sate him. He twists and pushes and cries out 'Arthur come on, I need it. I need it, Arthur, or I'll - I need -'

Coming is the last thing Arthur remembers for a little while, and when he rouses he feels weak, drained. 

'What - what was that?' he demands, casting around for his trousers. Merlin is huddled in the corner again, but not shivering this time, not radiating that sick, fierce heat. 'That fever - I thought you were going to die -' He did. He remembers, and he can't work out why he didn't go for Gaius -

'I was,' says Merlin, turning. His eyes are red. 'That was the plan.'

* * *

**52**

Warnings: minor character death, implied major character death, sadness

**shot to the heart of hell (1/2)**

"I want you to kill me," Gwen says. Her voice is hoarse, like it had to scratch its way out of her throat to get out. "Before I- change, I want you to kill me."

Morgana can't look at her. She can't see the steely determination in Gwen's face, the fear creeping in at the corners. She can't risk looking down and seeing the bloodied bandage wound around Gwen's arm. 

"I can't," Morgana whispers. "Gwen, I _can't_."

Gwen lays a hand on her arm, gently, so gently. Morgana closes her eyes. 

"Please," Gwen whispers, and her breath shivers on Morgana's neck. "I wouldn't ask, I'd do it myself if I could, but- but I can't- I'm so sorry, Morgana."

And Morgana just makes this noise, a kind of strangled cry that gets lost somewhere in her throat, and grips Gwen's shoulders and kisses her. Except her eyes are still closed and she misjudges the distance between them so she misses Gwen's mouth completely, gets the bump of her nose instead. Gwen takes her by the chin - gently, always fucking gently - and angles her face up so the next time Morgana leans in their lips meet instead. 

"But, Arthur," Morgana starts, eyes opening, when Gwen pulls back. 

"Arthur is dead," Gwen says fiercely, "and I'm not, not yet."

Morgana closes her eyes again. Arthur was bitten a few weeks ago; Gwen had to kill him, because Morgana couldn't and the others were long gone. The look on Gwen's face, afterwards, still haunts Morgana, in a way her half-brother's lifeless body sprawled bleeding on the pavement doesn't. 

"You were supposed to get married," Morgana whispers, and she's rocking now, backwards and forwards, clutching her knees. Gwen's face, stoic and calm, is burnt onto the backs of her eyelids. "You were supposed to have two and a half children and be sickeningly happy together for the rest of your lives, none of this was supposed to happen."

"Morgana," Gwen says softly, then, louder, " _Morgana_ ," when she only shakes her head violently, laying a hand on Morgana's arm to stop her quivering, and when that doesn't work pressing her lips to Morgana's forehead, her cheek, and finally her mouth. 

**shot to the heart of hell (2/2)**

This time the noise Morgana makes is halfway between anguish and sheer unadulterated _want_ , and she opens her mouth to let Gwen inside, her legs spreading automatically. Gwen settles between them like she belongs there, like this is where she was always meant to be, but Morgana has always thought that, _wished_ for that. Even when Gwen was hopelessly straight and dating her brother, even when they announced the engagement and Morgana tried to kiss her and Gwen turned her head and didn't speak to her for a week, even when they lowered Arthur's body into the makeshift grave they dug for him and Gwen held Morgana as she cried, her own eyes dry as a bone. Morgana _hoped_. 

(She knows, rationally, that nothing has changed, that Gwen loves her fiercely but not in the way Morgana loves her, that if Gwen weren't staring a death sentence in the face she wouldn't be letting Morgana have this. She knows, but the larger, irrational part of her doesn't _care_. She's wanted Gwen for so long she can't bring herself to.)

Gwen cries when she comes, awful hitching sobs which catch in her throat and Morgana would love, _love_ to believe it's her fingers buried deep inside Gwen, twisting, which wrench the tears out of her, but she hears the bitten-off _Arth_ \- and can't.

Morgana cries, too, a garbled litany of curses and Gwen's name and something that might be _love_ tangled among it all, and Gwen kisses the tears off Morgana's cheeks and whispers, "I know, it's okay, I _know_ ," even though Morgana isn't sure even she does.

They hold each other, afterwards, which isn't anything new; they always sleep curled together, ever since Arthur. Gwen clings more than usual, though, and Morgana strokes lines down her bandaged arm, wishing that would cure it, wishing there was anything she could do that would. 

"I'll do it," she whispers, finally, and it's been so long since Gwen asked Morgana doesn't think she'll know what she means, but the sigh Gwen breathes is grateful and so, so tired. 

"Thank you," Gwen murmurs, " _thank you_ ," and Morgana grips her tight and starts counting down the minutes.

* * *

**53**

"What's that?"

"Nothing," Merlin said.

Arthur fidgeted next to him, caught between standing and crouching down, then deciding for standing, toes curled into the soft sand of the shore, his back to the dwellings in the distance. 

"Nice," Arthur said.

"Nice," Merlin gave back, mimicking the sarcastic tone.

The marbles plopped through the surface and sunk to the bottom. Merlin listened and tried to hear the soft clink as it hit his mountain of marbles already there, but there was no way he could. He still thought he did, nevermind the noise of the warships as they hovered in the sky, just waiting. Chances were, the noise of the marbles was as much in his head as his silly little ideas of love and destiny. 

The ships droned like a swarm of bees just waiting to attack. They cut out all normal sounds. No birds, no water, no ping of the marbles as he sunk them all. Arthur had started giving them to him when they'd been, what, four or five, and now Merlin killed them dead. What else was there to do when he'd be a corpse by morning? 

Arthur's toes buried into the sand. Tense. "You know I can't. I would. But I can't."

"You can use my arse and pretend it's a pussy."

"The General won't-"

"Fuck you."

Arthur stared off into the distance, then down at Merlin's tower of marbles, and Merlin stared at Arthur. Imagined him with his cock, the same cock he'd lovingly sucked and kissed, deep in Gwen's pussy as he fucked her for children and for survival and for the warlords who wouldn't accept anything else as they hovered and just waited for Arthur to break his promises. 

Merlin leaned in, marbles still in hand, and pressed his face to Arthur's crotch, inhaled, soaked up the stink of sweat and of sex that clung to Arthur's trousers, then mouthed around the soft bulge of his cock and balls. He opened his lips around the cloth, sucked, fingers curling around Arthur's thighs.

"I can't-" Arthur stepped back, cock hard in his trousers and fingers balled to fists at his side. "You know I can't. The ... the kingdom."

"Right, for the good of the kingdom." Merlin turned back to the water, tasting the sandy grime on his tongue as he dropped another marble into its watery grave, burying pieces of himself bit by bit before he was lined up tomorrow with the others and shot one by one - all the ones not bound, mated, the ones no one wanted.

Merlin closed his eyes and imagined the taste of Arthur's cock in his mouth, the way it felt when it pushed into his arse and Merlin just took it. He got hard, straining against his trousers, and Merlin popped the buttons and closed his fingers around his cock, fist closed around the marbles in his other hand. He looked at Arthur as he jerked himself slowly, every twist of his wrist being one of their memories, one of their kisses, one of their drunken, fucked-up promises and one of his own foolish dreams of being the ones to be forever.

Arthur watched, cock twitching but he never pushed his trousers down, only watched as Merlin got wet, and harder and his breath came faster, only watched as Merlin opened his mouth and pushed a marble inside and swallowed. One by one he ate up Arthur's pledges to a future.

Behind Arthur the ships hovered. Tomorrow Merlin would be lined up with the rest of the suckers as Arthur and Gwen looked on. They'd be disposed off, like meat. But they wouldn't take this from Merlin, they wouldn't take knowing what Arthur carried in his heart.

Merlin swallowed the marbles one by one, pressing them down his throat, and jerked himself harder and faster. He spilled over his hand, over his trousers and the sand, almost over Arthur's toes buried in the sand.

"I can't-" Arthur said into the drone of the ships.

Merlin offered him one of the marbles, made him take it, before he turned back to the water to drop them down into the river one by one. His cock still out, shriveled against his thigh, he tried to listen to the sound of the marbles breaking the surface but he only heard the drone of the ships and Arthur walking away.

In his heart, he had Arthur swallow it like him. In his head, Merlin knew he never would.

* * *

**54**

Arthur did not want to wake up.

He had been dreaming about an attack happening in the alley next to his building. Arthur had lowered a rope to help save the victim, and somehow the man had managed to climb it and escape from certain death. The man was a stranger, but even in his sleep Arthur couldn’t bring himself to let someone die if there was something he could do about it.

The man had been Arthur’s first human contact in nearly three months and the only “guest” Arthur had ever had in his rooftop “home.” They had talked about the sky, about the missing stars and sun and moon. And even though those things scared Arthur when he was awake, the dream friend had made it seem okay, even wondrous. He had called it magic.

Arthur had never believed in magic, but then the man had held out his hands and his eyes had glowed gold and the long-dead rooftop garden sprang to life in a matter of seconds. They had feasted on tomatoes before curling up on Arthur’s sleeping bag and dozing off together.

It had been a beautiful dream and Arthur didn’t want to lose it. He wanted to stay in that world.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep, Arthur sighed and opened his eyes

The stranger was staring at him.

Arthur blinked and the previous night's events crashed over him in a sobering jolt. The alley attack, the rope Arthur had lowered for Merlin to climb, the discovery of Merlin’s magic, the fresh tomatoes from the garden... it had all happened. It wasn’t a dream. Merlin was real, and so was magic, and so was the hunger in the pit of Arthur’s stomach.

"You're still here," Arthur said stupidly.

"Where would I go?" Merlin asked. He moved his finger to Arthur's jawline and traced it slowly.

Arthur shrugged and Merlin and pressed his lips to Arthur's briefly.

"Do you think there are other people out there who have done the same things we've done?"

Arthur frowned, his mind stuck on the kiss. "What?"

"Do you think there's anyone else out there who's been living on a rooftop for three months and who saved the life of some weird magic kid and who’s now cuddling with said kid next to a freshly grown garden."

"I hope so," Arthur whispered.

Merlin licked his lips and inched a little closer to Arthur. "Is it alright if I kiss you again?"

Arthur barely had time to nod before Merlin's lips were on his. Slowly, Merlin coaxed his mouth open. He gasped when Merlin's tongue slid against his, and then Merlin crawled on top of him and he couldn't think anymore.

Merlin was thin but incredibly solid. He was strong and his hands were rough as they dragged off Arthur's shirt and started undoing Arthur's jeans. Arthur tried to take off Merlin's clothes, but his hands were shaking too badly and he wasn't sure where to start. He wanted to feel Merlin's chest against his own. He wanted to prove to himself that Merlin was alive and real and not a figment of his imagination. He wanted to feel Merlin's heart beating against his own.

"I really hope you're not the last decent person alive," Merlin said into Arthur's neck after he had pushed their pants down to their thighs and wrapped his long fingers around their cocks. "But if you are, I'm keeping you all for myself."

Arthur tried to laugh but all that came out was a moan. He arched up as Merlin stroked them, trying to catch his breath and not lose control too soon. He hadn't even had a wank since his first week on the rooftop, back when he still felt things like hunger and lust. Everything had faded as the days and weeks and months had ticked by, but just as hunger had ravished him the night before at the first taste of the ripe tomato, lust and passion and desire and need were flooding his senses now.

He could taste the tomato on Merlin's tongue and he was shaking and he couldn't breathe and he came right when Merlin's other hand brushed across their balls.

"I'm definitely staying up here with you," Merlin whispered against Arthur's lips. "If you'll let me."

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist. "Please," he pleaded into Merlin's hair. "Please stay."

* * *

**55**

Warnings: dubcon, slavery

"Would it kill you to make little more effort?" Merlin growls as the door shuts behind them.

" _Me_? What–"

"Lower your voice! That is not how a slave talks to his master."

 _That_ is not how a corporal talks to a major, and Merlin knows it. "Look," says Arthur, whispering despite himself, "just because you speak the lingo doesn't mean you're suddenly in charge. If making up some kind of… _relationship_ is the only way to get them to talk to you, then fine. But I'm not just going to bow my head and take your abuse, like–"

"Like somebody who's been conditioned for years to think they're less than a person?" Merlin snaps, and Arthur's shocked into silence. "Don't you see? It's not only information at this point. If you keep talking back and strutting around like some Camelot Academy brat, they'll expect me to punish you for it."

Arthur pictures the marks on the other slaves' backs. He imagines Merlin with a flogger in his hand, bending Arthur over his knee. He hears that strange, commanding voice in his head and feels his face flush.

"And if that doesn't happen," Merlin continues, "it won't be long before they figure out–" 

"And then we could–" Arthur stops, swallows. "We really would be enslaved."

"Maybe. They enslave the ones they think they can control." Merlin leans close and takes his hand. "Do you trust me?"

Four years together in the Five Kingdoms Army, with Merlin never leaving his side. There's no way he'd stop trusting this man. "Of course."

"Good. Then for God's sake, follow my lead. It took me a lot of effort to get away from these people in the first place. I sure as hell don't intend to die here."

The Essetians greet Merlin casual tones, and he grins as he answers them. Though he claims to hate it here, his movements are easy and graceful, and these fine tailored robes suit him better than 5K uniforms ever have. Arthur kneels by his feet, doing his best to mimic the other slaves. 

An Essetian woman nods at them approvingly as she tugs on a ring in her slave's nipple. The girl moans, and Arthur wonders if she is a captive like he pretends to be.

Everyone's in a better mood now: laughing, kissing, playing. Perhaps they think Merlin did beat him while they were alone, and that's why his behavior's improved. A man Arthur's father's age approaches them and exchanges a few words with Merlin, who threads his fingers through Arthur's hair as he answers, his tone polite but closed off. The man withdraws, frowning, but without harsh words.

"He wanted to taste you," Merlin says to Arthur's questioning look. Raising his voice slightly, though the words will mean nothing to the others, he adds, "But I won't let him, because you're mine."

"Thank you, master," Arthur says, voice cracking with uncertainty and shame. _Trust me._ Merlin cups his jaw and Arthur leans in, presses his hot face into Merlin's lap.

Arthur's always known Merlin came from Essetir – it's one of the reasons he'll never advance beyond his current rank. What he'd never realized before this mission is that Merlin comes from good family here. He said he never owned a plaything for himself, but he could have expected to acquire one once he took his place in society. Arthur is awed and startlingly, fiercely grateful that Merlin chose to leave all this behind to serve the 5K. With him.

"I want them all to know how grateful I am, though I don't have the words." Arthur reaches into Merlin's robes and takes hold of his half-hard prick. Merlin closes his eyes for a moment. 

"Let me make it good for you, master."

Merlin nods.

Arthur's seen Merlin naked dozens of times. Lying in his bunk at night, pulling at his own cock in quick, frustrated strokes, he's thought about him naked thousands of times. But Major Arthur Pendragon would never initiate sexual relations with a subordinate.

Arthur's imagined himself in this very position – granted, without the room full of people. He's wanted to kneel before another man and take his cock in his mouth, let another man (Merlin, why not admit it: he's always wanted Merlin) tangle his fingers in Arthur's hair and push into him, choke him, take him over. But General Pendragon's son would never debase himself in that way. 

The Essetian Merlin's captive would. Humiliated, happy, Merlin's Arthur does.

* * *

**56**

 

Morgana had managed to hold them up for three days in cliffs, deep in the Insingdor caverns. They were both starving, drained for thirst, and even afraid to breathe because of what lay within their possible tomb. The smell had become so unbearable that Arthur had taken Merlin’s scarf to hold against his face the nights before. Now however, Merlin crouched beneath him, Arthur’s body pressed against his in slumber. It was because they were in such a tight space, of course. But somehow he knew even though the prince appeared to sleep peacefully against him he would be awake at the slightly sound of a sliding talon or a scraping scale.

The beasts that were in the cavern were far from anything they recognized. The odor was unfamiliar for one, smelling largely of a mixture of fern and…as Arthur had had difficulty placing at first, sex. The temperature in the cave left them sweating and hot. Only Arthur’s knighthood or his thick headedness as Merlin swore kept him from ridding his shirt from his skin to help his breathing. His scarf had been turned into a sweat towel over night.

Whether Arthur woke on his own in the next hour mattered not, for he would have to wake him soon anyway. The low growls and unusual sounds from the beasts were dying down for sleep. That meant it was time to move. Arthur had told him there was a read exit to the caverns that had been discovered by an unfortunate knight when he was a child. That was their only hope, and Merlin feared what would happen if for some reason the exit was not there or had been blocked for some reason.  
A talon scraped across the rocky ground just as Merlin was beginning to drift and Arthur was leaning up in an instant, looking around with tired, puffy eyes, “Shutup, Merlin,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t eve-“

He shoved his hand in his face to push himself up. The only reason they were able to see each other was because of the sharp glittering crystals that reflected off of the beasts. They’d discovered on accident that once they fell into sleep they were extremely hard to wake, unless you touched them. And one other thing was to their advantage as they traversed, they were blind. Merlin followed Arthur closely as they pasted one of them, listening to the loud deep breathing. White thick fur like that of a cats crushed through diamond like scaled. It’s nostrils were the size of a human head, flowing a tough gust of air with each breath. They’d learned quickly to steer away if they could, especially on inhale. That had almost cost them their lives. They struck Merlin as slightly goat like, with the elongated body of a dragon.

“Merlin…hurry up.”

He glanced up at Arthur, who was touching a piece of crystal on the floor that had somehow chipped off, shedding a sharp pink cast in his eyes. He handed it to Merlin, “keep that and give it to Gaius.”

Merlin nodded, not arguing right now but not feeling too good about it as he stuck it in a pouch on his side. Meddling with any of these things wasn’t wise, but he didn’t feel alerted to it. He followed Arthur on, and it seemed they’d finally reached a point where the smell of a stream and the sound of the nights crickets flooded into the cave. But when they peaked around the corner into a large cavernous hole they were left stunned. These creatures were awake, and the smell of sex quickly became apparent.

“They’re…m-mating…”

“Thank you, Merlin. Brilliant,” Arthur scoffed. The smell was overwhelming. 

He backed up behind the wall a little further, “They’ll be able to smell us. The opening is clear but there’s no chance as we are..” he reached for him.

“W-wait Arthur, not here-“

“Do you want out or not?” he nipped and pushed him down against the rock floor. He ground against him, biting at his neck, “Quick and fast my little sorcerer…be a good servant, turn over.”

Merlin shivered, eyes flashing unusually at the command and he felt himself grow hot, so fast his breath became short. Arthur matched him, his heat escalating. Merlin was on his stomach, dripping in his own cum within minutes. Arthur fucked him fast, provided easy entrance by magic, and exploded inside him once, and then again.

Once sex covered and free, magic demanded even more.

* * *

**57**

warning: crack

It started with murmurs and whispers around the castle. Scullery maid to stable boy, knight to page, and finally kitchen boy to Merlin.

“…the ponies…”

But no one was very specific, just very afraid, and Merlin grew a little frustrated. He tried to look it up in his books of magick beasties, but he didn’t even really know where to start, so he ended up with approximately eighty-two dead-ends and a headache.

“Gaius,” he finally asked one afternoon as he was putting away the herbs he’d been sent to gather, “what are these ‘ponies’ everyone keeps going on about?”

Gaius froze. Twitched. Avoided Merlin’s gaze. “Merlin,” he finally replied, his eye contact too earnest to be truthful, “where did you hear such a thing?”

“Oh, I dunno, let me think. Everywhere?”

Gaius made a dismissive gesture. With notably trembling hands. “Pay it no heed.”

Merlin nodded slowly, knowing he’d do the opposite. “All right.”

\---

But there were no words to describe how completely and utterly unprepared he was for the actuality when it finally came.

\---

The first sign of their arrival was the soft clop of hooves in the main courtyard. Which, yes, saw a lot of hoof-clopping, but hardly any of it involved tinkling musical accompaniment.

Merlin was in Arthur’s room, of course, tidying up after morning practice while Arthur bathed. “It sounds like a group of children got ahold of the castle bells,” he started, “and put them on—“

He stopped.

“…ponies,” he and Arthur said at once.

\---

The second sign was rather more subtle. It was when the gigantic anthropomorphic sparkling beasts demanded they all fornicate.

The king and his closest companions (the future king, the future queen, the future court sorcerer, the future archenemy of everything he stood for; the usual) had gathered in the courtyard to greet their guests.

“We come in peace!” Arthur said. “No, wait, that’s not right.”

“This feels like something out of a drama about teenaged vampire hunters,” Uther said. Arthur brightened. “No, that’s not right, either.” Arthur frowned.

Merlin wanted to throw all of them over the wall. “And what happens if we do not comply?” he asked the front pony, who seemed, with its hugest eyes and flowingest mane, to be the leader.

The pony kicked at the ground. “Then you shall all perish.”

Merlin looked at Gaius, and could tell by the look on his face that these creatures were indeed capable of such destruction. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he protested diplomatically. “Why—why _that_? Why is it so important?”

Merlin could’ve sworn the pony’s eyes twinkled at him especially. “Love is the most important thing.”

He groaned and put his head in his hands.

\---

“I still don’t see why we had to do it this way,” Merlin said offhandedly as Arthur slid two slicked-up fingers into him. “Morgana and Gwen, you and me, Gaius and--”

“Please do not finish that sentence.”

“…yeah, sorry.”

“Nobles bedding their servants out of wedlock is acceptable, Merlin, that’s why. Now hush, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“What on earth would you be trying to concentrate _on_? It’s rather basic--” He choked as Arthur’s crooked fingers hit something magnificent. “-- _oooh_.”

“Yes, oh.” He kissed Merlin, on the mouth, and Merlin couldn’t help but kiss back. “Now _hush_.”

\---

The next day, after a breakfast of Camelot’s finest hay, the ponies said their farewells. Everyone seemed rather non-nonplussed, even though Merlin’s mind was racing with Arthur’s damnable hands and lips and cock, and he wondered how the other couples had fared.

Afterwards, Merlin briefly caught glimpses of the girls exchanging giggles and heated looks while Arthur dragged him back up to his chambers, and he figured that was a good enough answer. Then he forgot the question all together as Arthur pinned him down on the bed and stroked their cocks together until they came in a rush.

Afterwards, and most bizarrely, Arthur cleaned them both up and climbed back into bed. “I’m rather glad they visited, considering,” he said on a yawn, “but I preferred the bears.”

“The _what_?”

Arthur waved vaguely. “There were bears once, a couple years before you got here, they shot magical light from their--” He gestured at his stomach region. “They were the most frightening things I’ve ever seen, but at least they didn’t leave sparkling excrement everywhere.” He kissed Merlin’s shoulder and settled in, clearly intending to nap. “Now sleep, you idiot.”

_**FIN** ~~thank god~~_

* * *

**58**

Warnings: non-con, anachronistic sex lingo

Arthur turned his face from Morgana toward the wall of the cell, his cheek resting on the cool floor. He looked up at Merlin, analysing the raw rage etched into his features.

"Don't," Arthur groaned.

Morgana cackled in triumph, but Arthur knew Merlin recognised his warning for what it was. Morgana couldn't know of Merlin's magic yet. Not with so much at stake.

Morgana tapped her fingers against the bars. "He hasn't much time left."

Behind him, Arthur heard Melin spit into his palm.

"No," Morgana hissed. "You will fuck him dry."

"Morgana, I swear—"

"He'll die if you don't," she interrupted, her voice tinted with mad glee. "He needs your seed."

Arthur felt Merlin's thighs against his own, the flicking of Merlin's wrist as he squeezed his prick into arousal. Arthur felt himself wince.

The solid warmth of Merlin spread across Arthur's back, wet breath against his ear.

"Please relax," Merlin said, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Arthur's side. "I don't want to hurt you."

Merlin kept whispering to Arthur, urging him to be calm, as he pressed his cock to Arthur's entrance and in.

Arthur closed his eyes against the tears, his throat clenched unbearably tight. He would not give Morgana the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

Merlin's movement was slow and careful.

Arthur thought he might lose consciousness from the pain ripping through him. He hoped he would.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered again and again into Arthur's hair as he drove his cock into Arthur's arse. "Please forgive me."

Arthur couldn't think past the pain of Merlin's prick pressing into him, the sharp knowledge that he was bleeding inside. He beat his fist against the floor—anything to distract him from Morgana's incessant mocking.

Merlin's hand covered his fist, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin of Arthur's wrist.

"Please just bear through this. Please." Merlin sounded desperate, his voice high-pitched and ragged. "I'll make you better, I promise." He pressed a kiss to Arthur's ear.

Arthur relaxed his hand and slotted his fingers between Merlin's, clutching them dearly.

"Kiss me more," he choked around the sobs threatening to escape him.

Merlin pulled stiff, gentle kisses up Arthur's neck that left him yearning for sincerity.

"Enjoy this," Arthur hissed. "You have to come."

"I can't," Merlin said, kissing Arthur's ear again, the gesture full of the tenderness that Arthur craved. "I can't like hurting you."

"You can like fucking me," Arthur grit out, slamming back into Merlin and nearly vomiting from the pain.

Despite himself, Merlin began driving his hips in more forcefully.

"Fuck, Arthur," Merlin hissed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising and fuck me," Arthur growled. "Fuck me like you mean it, like you want it. Imagine a girl you fancy—I don't care. Just do it."

"It's you," Merlin breathed after a moment. "Only you I think about."

Arthur felt his chest swell with a familiar longing. He grasped Merlin's fingers and shook his head, blocking out Morgana's cruel laughter.

"Just pretend," Arthur whispered. "We're in my bed. We've been kissing, and you've covered your cock in oil, and I'm begging you for it."

"Oh, god."

"Fuck me, Merlin. I need you to fill me with your come."

"Fuck," Merlin grunted, and Arthur wanted to pretend, too.

"Touch me."

Merlin brushed his fingers along Arthur's flaccid prick, and even though he could not become aroused, it was good to know Merlin's touch.

A loud crash and men's voices cut through Merlin's hoarse breathing.

Gwaine and Elyan had broken through with the orb.

"Keep talking," Merlin panted even as Morgana fled. "Lie to me."

Arthur let out a long, steadying exhale.

"Merlin, yes," he moaned like a whore, turning his face into Merlin's neck, savouring his scent. "You feel so good. I love the way your cock feels pumping in and out of my arse. I want to suck you—feel your prick slide past my lips and over my tongue. I want to taste you. I want—"

Merlin let out a broken moan as his body stilled. He squeezed Arthur's hand, pressing his lips to Arthur's brow.

A moment passed, and Merlin pulled himself away, pressing his hand to the small of Arthur's back and muttering enchantments. Immediately the pain in Arthur faded to a dull ache.

"That's enough," Arthur said, pulling up his trousers and turning to face Merlin. He wiped the tears from Merlin's cheeks. "I want to feel you still."

Merlin pressed a hand to Arthur's chest.

* * *

**59**

Warnings: mentions of character deaths

They met fighting over a can of beans.

Merlin’s car finally broke down days ago, stuttered and died on a stretch of highway and no matter how much his magic sparked and crackled at his fingertips, it wouldn’t move. He was regulated to walking, backpack heavy on his shoulders, holes in his jeans, canteen looped around his neck, and gun tucked into his waistband. His body ached, muscles sore, feet dragging and kicking up dust as he stumbled into the desolate town. His water was dangerously low for the heat of the summer and he measured his sips, trying to conserve it. Merlin made for the shops, hoping for food or water, and a place to sleep that wasn’t a ditch or littered with bodies. 

It had been so long since Merlin had encountered another human being that he wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first in the dim lighting of the Tescos.

Merlin’s hand shook, his palms sweaty as he leveled the pistol at the stranger, the dented, dusty jumbo can of beans lying on its side in the aisle midway between them.

His blond hair was dirty and sweat-soaked, a day’s worth of stubble lined his face, and he brandished his shotgun at Merlin like he knew how to use it. His eyes were wide and reflected Merlin’s own hunted, starved look. 

Merlin swallowed, unsure, magic flaring under his skin in a way he hadn’t felt before. 

“Share it?” he rasped.

The stranger eyed him warily, licked his lips, and nodded. 

They lowered their guns at the same time. 

Merlin’s heart beat wildly, his pulse thumping as they inched closer.

“I’m Arthur,” the stranger offered. 

“Merlin,” he answered with a strained smile. 

They shared the tin, over a makeshift fire in a fireplace of an abandoned house, sat on the floor. While their feast heated, beans bubbling hot, Arthur told Merlin he had been a lawyer before the epidemic. It took both his father and sister. 

Merlin had been a student, not that it mattered now. The pandemic had been swift, vicious, and undiscriminating. Merlin’s small village of Ealdor had been decimated in two weeks despite his own best efforts, his magic impotent against the sickness, and he was left alone.

Merlin couldn’t stay there, the memories of his loved ones thick in the air, cloying like the soil where he buried them. 

As it was, sitting close to Arthur as they dug their spoons into the can, their knees bumping as they ate and spoke softly, Merlin felt touch-starved, hungry, _lonely_.

Arthur must have felt the same way. 

His kiss was abrupt, his lips rough and chapped on Merlin’s own, his hands greedy for every inch of Merlin’s skin as he licked his way into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin kissed back, hands twined in Arthur’s thick hair, biting and nipping. They pushed and tugged each other toward the bedroom, kicked up a cloud of dust as they collapsed onto the bed. 

It was dirty and fast. 

Merlin clawed at Arthur’s clothes, desperate to feel skin against skin, the heat of another person against him after weeks of solitude and fear. Arthur’s fingers were trembling and clumsy at Merlin’s zip as they kissed eagerly but he managed to yank Merlin’s jeans down his hips, freeing Merlin’s hard, leaking cock. Merlin clutched at Arthur’s solid body, drew him down and arched his back as Arthur covered him and Merlin reveled in the feeling of being pushed into the mattress, smothered, sheltered. They rutted together, their cocks flushed, skin hot and dry, Arthur letting out small grunts every time he pressed down. 

Arthur pushed two of his fingers forcefully past Merlin’s lips and Merlin hungrily sucked them, moaned as Arthur fucked his mouth, slid them in and out along his tongue. Arthur pulled them out with a wet pop then took both of their cocks in his spit-slick hand, stroked them fast, brutal and without rhythm. 

Merlin pistoned his hips wildly, head thrown back, his magic electric and zinging along his limbs. He dug his fingers into Arthur’s arse, urged him to go faster, harder, his orgasm rapidly building. 

“Fuck, Arthur. Fuck!” Merlin cried as he came. 

Arthur followed shortly after, buried his face in Merlin’s neck, panting Merlin’s name. 

“I have an idea,” Arthur said later, lying in the afterglow, wrapped around each other “about uniting the people left and starting over. I think you should join me.”

Merlin smiled and his magic blazed in agreement.

* * *

**60**

Warnings: Mind control/enchantment (Simpleton!Arthur), slight dub-con

Arthur washes the bowls carefully, making sure they are clean inside and out. He doesn't want to disappoint Merlin. Rinsing the pot is next – Arthur is glad he remembers – but his thoughts are interrupted when he hears voices coming from the other side of the camp.

“Haven’t had me a woman in _ages_ ,” a voice says plaintively. 

( _Smugglers_ , Merlin calls them. The word makes Arthur’s shoulders hunch up, but he’s not sure why. They’ve been very nice in letting them travel with the caravan.)

“Haven’t had a woman ever, you mean,” a rough voice responds, and there’s a burst of raucous laughter among the trees.

“I’m going to _die_ if someone doesn’t touch my cock soon,” the plaintive one continues.

“Nothing wrong with your hand from what I can see,” the rough one says, snorting.

The voices fade into the night, but not from Arthur’s thoughts. He looks down at his cock and tries to remember the last time someone touched it. He can’t remember much, his memory is so hazy, but maybe Merlin knows. Merlin knows everything. 

Arthur finishes rinsing the pot and makes his way back to the fire and to Merlin, where it is warm. Merlin smiles at him when he returns. Arthur gets so lost in his smile, he forgets to ask Merlin about the smugglers. 

Merlin tells him a story before bed about a great dragon that flies, filling the sky with fire, and a man who sits astride him and rides the wind. Arthur listens to the cadence of Merlin’s voice and watches the sweep of his fingers as he paints the story with his hands. 

They settle on the ground to sleep, and Arthur shifts as close to Merlin as he can without being annoying. Arthur feels safe when Merlin is around: Merlin is kind and strong and smart, all the things Arthur wants to be.

~

Arthur wakes up later when the stars are brighter and the fire is colder. He looks over as Merlin murmurs and rolls closer to him, still asleep. Arthur happily wriggles closer to Merlin's warmth, then notices Merlin’s cock straining against his breeches, hard against Arthur’s hip. Arthur frowns, remembering what the smuggler said. He pokes Merlin awake to see if he’s dying.

“Arthur?” Merlin says, his voice scratchy. He gives Arthur a sleepy smile – Arthur feels warm all over again – and then his expression changes to panic. He tries to move away, but Arthur doesn’t want that, so he rolls over on top of him to make sure Merlin doesn’t leave. 

“I don’t want you to die,” Arthur tells Merlin. 

“What?” Merlin asks, sounding baffled. His face is flushed and he looks wild about the eyes. Arthur thinks they are just in time.

“The smugglers. They said you can die if you don’t have your cock touched for a while,” Arthur says, reaching for Merlin’s breeches. 

“Arthur, no, that’s not what they meant,” Merlin says weakly. He tries to push Arthur’s hand away. 

Arthur might be a simpleton, but he’s not stupid. He sees the look that's always in Merlin’s eyes when he looks at him: soft and fond and full of longing. “I want to,” Arthur says.

Merlin shudders once, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Arthur,” he says, his voice trembling.

Arthur unlaces Merlin’s breeches to take out his cock, thick and hot in his hand. Arthur skims his fingers along it, learning its shape. He strokes Merlin carefully, remembering how he likes it himself, a dim memory of his own hand on him in the early morning. It falls naturally to him, like the way he remembers how to hold a sword, although he doesn’t remember where or how he learned it. 

He wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock, speeding up when Merlin starts writhing underneath him. Merlin’s breath starts coming in sharp gasps, the tip beading with precome, and Arthur smears his thumb along the head, remembering how good it feels. Arthur grunts a little, feeling his own cock rise and tighten. He wonders if maybe Merlin is contagious and now he could die too, but Merlin is here, Merlin will take care of him, always, and Arthur will do the same because he promised Merlin that he would do better. 

When Merlin comes, he says _Arthur_ in a voice that it almost hurts to hear.

“Can I?” Merlin asks after a quiet, close moment, resting his hand in front of Arthur’s breeches.

“Please,” Arthur says. “Thank you.”

* * *

**61**

**From the Ashes**

The acrid scent of smoke coats Arthur’s throat as they stand on the edge of the Burning Lands. The bleak scarred landscape stretches to the horizon, where distant volcanic peaks spill constant clouds of ash into Earth’s ruined atmosphere.

The two men work in efficient silence. The sooner they get their samples collected, the sooner they can start the return journey to the compound. It’s only been a few days, but already Arthur is longing to see a tree, some grass, a living creature other than his companion.

***

The day they were introduced by the team leader at Unit Epsilon, Phoenix had held Arthur’s hand a little too long and stared at him intently.

“Found you at last.” His dark blue eyes seemed to reach into Arthur’s soul, seeking some connection. 

“I’m sorry... have we met before?” Arthur had frowned, disconcerted, his hand trapped in the tight grip of slender fingers. 

Phoenix smiled, the slice of his cheekbones eliciting a brush of distant memory, skin pale against the bitter coal-black of his hair. “My mistake.” His lips lifted at the corners, but his eyes told another story.

***

Arthur’s gaze is drawn to Phoenix as they work. His dark head bent in concentration, pale long-fingered hands carefully tipping dust samples into bags. Arthur suddenly remembers a recent dream, lost on waking but now thrown back into sharp focus by the sight of those hands.

_Bone-white fingers entwine with Arthur’s as he presses them down into a mattress. Flickering candlelight paints delicate shadows on a lean body, taut beneath his own. Blue-black eyes stare up at him and bony hips lift to meet the slick, insistent slide of his erection as Arthur teases, wanting to hear him plead again._

Arthur gasps, dropping the soil sample he’s holding. 

Phoenix turns to look at him curiously. “You okay?” And Arthur’s face burns hot, like the uninhabitable land around them, as he licks his lips and swallows hard.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Just clumsy.” He watches as Phoenix straightens up and moves to a new location. His eyes trace over the slim hips and straight shoulders; the tight, high curve of buttocks over long legs.

_Arthur’s hands splay lean limbs wide as he moves down to take a flushed, swollen cock in his mouth. His tongue traces delicately around the foreskin, tasting sweet-salt and musk. Arthur’s fingers, slippery with oil, press carefully into tight, willing heat; probing and searching, then finding the place that makes his lover writhe and whimper. He looks up to see the desperate flush on those pale cheeks, dark hair tangled from his hands and damp with sweat, lips bitten-pink and wet. “Please, Arthur.”_

The muffled sound of an explosion, like the rumble of far-off thunder, brings him back to the present. 

“Look,” Phoenix points and Arthur moves to stand beside him. A volcano is erupting in the far distance, belching new clouds of dark smoke into the air. 

As they watch, the sun edges below the almost-permanent cloud cover and casts tentative rays of golden-orange light on the ravaged landscape, as though unsure of its welcome. Arthur meets Phoenix’s eyes and sees the gold reflected there. 

_Legs wrap tight around his waist, drawing him in, urging him on as he loses himself in the body beneath him. Arthur’s lips taste the salty tang of sweat as he licks and bites, sucking angry purple marks into flawless skin. Sweaty skin slips as they rut together, the tension crackling around them like something tangible. Arthur lifts his head, because he never tires of seeing his lover’s eyes when he comes. “God, Merlin!” Murky blue flares gold as they clutch each other and their bodies tense and pulse and spill. Arthur cries out as his climax rips through him like a tidal wave of destruction, tearing him apart and rebuilding him in that fleeting, endless-seeming moment of ecstasy._

Arthur stares at his companion. 

“Merlin?” His voice is barely more than a whisper, like smoke on the wind. He waits, breathless. Then Phoenix reaches out his hands and pulls Arthur to him. 

The kiss is real, but it feels like a dream. So familiar, yet not. Phoenix tastes of smoke and dust. But the soft brush of his lips and the curl of his tongue are like a spark to tinder, and the heat they ignite is like nothing Arthur has ever felt. 

“You remembered.” Phoenix’s smile is radiant as he pulls away. “Here we are again, Arthur. Risen from the ashes.”

* * *

**62**

They’re barricaded in their apartment. Merlin tried to convince Arthur to leave the city a month ago, when the assembly was voting on martial law. He’d wanted to go upstate. His mother’s farm has its own water supply and years’ worth of food in the pantry from her compulsive canning. Arthur hadn’t believed that there could be food rationing, or that utilities might be cut off. He had faith in the system. Merlin only had faith in Arthur.

Gwaine laughed at Merlin’s zombie survival kit, back when he first started building it. Merlin had joked that he was just playing along with the CDC and spent years putting everything together. What he didn’t tell Gwaine, or any of his friends really, was that he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that something terrible was coming. He’d known that he had to be prepared, that the fate of the world rested on his being ready. He hadn’t wanted them to think he was crazy, they would have made him stop.

Merlin knew that the drought and the rising seas and the riots were only going to get worse as long as the people in power cared more about their pocketbooks then in their constituents. Not that anyone would have much in their pocketbooks soon.

Now he’s just exhausted. He’s not had a solid eight hours of sleep in weeks, every noise outside makes him wish he’d gone ahead and bought a couple of guns. Arthur had tried to get the others to move in with them, but no one had thought it would get this bad so fast. He doesn’t know what happened to everyone. He can’t sleep knowing there’s too many holes in their defense. It wrecks him that he’ll never know if it would have been better with more people to take shifts.

Arthur finds him curled up by the back door cradling a machete he bought on Amazon. Arthur pulls him down the hall towards Arthur's room. They can’t go to Merlin’s. He’s pulled all the books off the shelves trying to memorize how to irrigate a field and how to forage for plants, in case he can’t take anything with him when they finally have to leave.

He and Arthur have always just been friends, never gone past making out due to Elena’s instigating at parties, but right now, Merlin needs something. When Arthur pushes Merlin down on the bed, Merlin grabs Arthur’s arm to pull him in.

Merlin has to know that he’s still alive, that there’s still something to fight for. He kisses Arthur hard and desperate, and feels some of the tension he’s been carrying disappear when Arthur grabs his hair and kisses him back.

There’s too many hands and angles and need to get things right immediately, but eventually, Merlin’s got Arthur naked and on his back, and he’s digging condoms and lube out of the nightstand. He pours the lube on his hand and Arthur’s cock has two fingers in himself just to get the slick up there and he’s sinking down on Arthur as fast as he can without hurting himself, breathing past the burn, feeling alive again.

Arthur’s got one hand on his ass and one hand on his cock, and he’s stroking Merlin to match Merlin’s rhythm as he rides Arthur slow at first while the lube finally spreads enough to do it’s job and make everything smooth and easy, then harder. Merlin’s got his head tossed back. He’s found the perfect angle and thinks he could come just from this, but Arthur’s hand is tight on his cock, so he’ll never know. Merlin can’t stop the rush of words that are coming from his mouth, but even he can’t tell what he’s saying, but he means, yes, and more, and please. Arthur comes with a shout and Merlin’s name on his lips.

When Merlin comes, he feels a lifetime of memories unspool behind his eyes in a golden rush, and he finally understands why he’s always felt the burden of saving the world. He didn’t need a survival kit. He needed Arthur all along. Tonight, he can sleep. Tomorrow, everything changes.

* * *

**63**

The world falls apart.

*

**Day One**

Arthur's heart pounds in his chest, his hands tight on the wheel as he swerves around falling rubble and crying people with vacant-looking eyes. He slams on breaks and curses wildly as a woman runs in front of him, tear tracks on her dirty cheeks.

"My son," she screams at him. "Where is my son?"

Arthur shakes his head, throat tightening at the despair on her face. She turns and runs away again, stumbling over broken concrete.

"Merlin," Arthur whispers, and has never been so fucking scared in all of his life.

*

**Day Five**

Merlin stares out the window, arms tight around his stomach. He feels sick, watching what's left of the world crash down. He feels Arthur step up behind him, leans back against his warm, familiar chest.

"Ready?"

Merlin can't form the one word necessary, can't say _yes_ even though he knows he has to. He'll never be ready to leave their home, but the world has gone to hell and he would follow Arthur anywhere, so he just nods and twists around to press his mouth to Arthur's, kissing him with so much desperation he thinks he'll drown in it.

*

**Day Thirty-Seven**

Arthur crouches down low behind the brick wall, the gun he'd stolen from an abandoned home clutched tightly in one hand. He doesn't really know how to use it, but he's been learning fast enough. It's necessary; they've been attacked no less than four times in the past month, and they can't stay unprotected.

Merlin is beside him, another gun in his hands. There's a Tescos just around the corner, the glass windows busted out and the shelves mostly raided. Whatever food is left will be their first meal in at least three days.

"Ready?"

Arthur nods, and they run.

*

**Day Fifty-Four**

They're on the run.

The building in front of them is half crumbled, bricks strewn everywhere, the front door hanging half off the hinges. They climb through, Arthur first and Merlin just behind.

The building is empty, and when they find a dirty mattress on the floor of one room they flip it over and sleep as though they're dead.

*

**Day Fifty-Six**

Arthur fucks him, hard and fast and desperate, fingers clutching at his hips as he pulls Merlin back against him. Merlin's face is pressed against the mattress, nails digging into the torn fabric, low, broken sounds echoing from this throat.

They don't get to do this much anymore, but Merlin needs it, they both need it, and a strangled cry catches in his chest as Arthur buries one hand in his hair and pulls his head up. He leans over and kisses him, wet and open, tongues twisting and chasing and sliding together.

When Merlin comes it's almost painful, Arthur fucking him through it. He keeps going, pounding him down until he's flat on the mattress, boneless, eyes closed as he enjoys the aftershocks. It doesn't take Arthur long, shoving in as far as he can as he comes, dick pulsing as he fills Merlin with his release.

*

**Day Ninety-One**

They meet Gwaine, Elena, Gwen, and Lance when the small group saves them from the Peacekeepers appointed by the New World Republic.

"It's not much," Gwen says, opening a door that leads to an actual bedroom, with an actual bed. "But you're safer down here than up there in the open.

"Are you kidding?" Arthur says, tangling his fingers with Merlin's. "It's perfect."

*

**Day Three-Hundred Seventeen**

Word from above is that a war is brewing. Arthur wants to fight, and Merlin knows he'll fight along with him, until the very end. His magic burns in his veins, and the way Arthur looks at him tells him that he knows.

They've made a home here, somehow, in these underground bunkers and tunnels. Their saviors have become not just their friends but their family, and things aren't the same but they're happy.

"Ready?" Arthur asks, and Merlin nods.

He's ready for anything, as long as he has Arthur by his side.

* * *

**64**

Warning: possible consent issues (of the fuck-or-die type)

Merlin orders everyone to keep it from Arthur, but it’s no surprise when the king shows up on his doorstep. “Leon says Morgana enchanted you,” he starts, arms crossed, scowl in place.

“I’ll fix it faster if you leave me be.” Merlin turns away, leaves the door open for Arthur to come in since he’ll do it anyway.

“He wouldn’t tell me more, but Gwaine did. He said you’ll die if I don’t ...” Arthur gusts out a sigh. “Would you _look at me_?”

“No.” If Merlin doesn’t get what he most desires by sunset, he’ll die. And what he most desires--what he’s always desired--is Arthur’s love, and this is the closest approximation the curse can require. How could he possibly meet Arthur’s eyes? “I’ll find another way..”

“You don’t need to.”

That’s Morgana’s plan. To poison Merlin’s most secret desire by letting him have it because Arthur feels obligated by duty or friendship. “Arthur--”

“Merlin.” Merlin dares a glance to see Arthur using the same expression he uses whenever he’s about to do something noble and self-sacrificing for Merlin. It’s a very specific expression, and means he’s going to be stubborn. “Please. Let me do this for you. It won’t hurt us.”

He will never, never be strong enough to say no to Arthur, not when Merlin wants it so badly that it’s going to kill him. “There are potions,” he says, hating this, hating himself. “That can make you … want me. For a little while.”

“I don’t need them.” Merlin chokes out a laugh, shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t a hardship. I promise. Say yes.” Arthur pauses. “Or if you say no, don’t do it for my sake.”

The humiliation burns Merlin’s throat. “Don’t pity me, I won’t--”

“We have two hours till sunset,” Arthur interrupts. “That’s not long. Let’s just do it, and we can talk after, you can blather about pride and pity until you go blue, but you’ve got to be alive.”

Merlin swallows and turns away to grapple his shirt off. “Okay.”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice is so gentle it _hurts_. “At least in your bed.”

That’s practical, even if it will be harder to keep his barriers up with Arthur treating him like a lover. Merlin slips into his bedroom and strips there, ignoring the way Arthur trails after him and the unhappy noise he makes when Merlin flops belly-down in his bed and holds out the bottle of oil he keeps under his pillow. “Come on.”

“Don’t be a martyr. Turn over.” He can’t yield on this, knows he won’t be able to stand the absent look on Arthur’s face while he drives his cock inside Merlin and thinks of someone else, so he stays where he is and listens to the sigh and rustle of cloth that means Arthur’s stripping too. A minute later, there’s a hand at Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin shrugs it off, then throws it off with magic when Arthur tries again. “I want to see your face,” whispers Arthur, and Merlin was always going to give him everything, wasn’t he?

Every time Merlin tries another measure to guard his heart, Arthur ruins it. He captures Merlin’s lips and kisses him gently, he runs his hands down Merlin’s sides, he smiles every time Merlin touches him and ignores Merlin’s pleas to go rougher, faster, to get it _over_ with. He’s expert stretching Merlin open, and he’s patient when Merlin needs to adjust, and, most devastatingly, when Arthur fucks him just as well as Merlin always knew he would, his eyes stay locked on Merlin’s the whole time.

Arthur spends first and pulls Merlin into his lap to finish him, Merlin squirming and gasping until he comes with a wordless shout that was almost Arthur’s name. They stay close, breathing hard, as Merlin checks to make sure Morgana’s spell is gone. “Okay?” Arthur asks after a minute, and Merlin nods, mute. “We should--”

 _Talk,_ he’s going to say, and Merlin can’t bear Arthur’s pity with Arthur’s come still drying inside him. “No,” he says, high and panicky, and clutches at Arthur’s shoulder, wanting him to understand and wishing he wouldn’t.

After a second, Arthur wraps around him, tentative but strong, and Merlin doesn’t understand the catch in his voice when he says “We’ll wait. We’ve got time.”

* * *

**65**

Warnings: Barebacking, some gory imagery (very, very brief)

Arthur woke to the sound of moaning and the bed shaking from his partner’s tossing and turning in disturbed slumber. Rolling over on his side, he glanced at the clock over Merlin’s shoulder and added a moan of his own. Two o’clock in the bloody morning! _Well, _he thought with a sleepy sigh. _At least it’s the weekend.___

He reached over and gently shook Merlin’s shoulder, hoping to wake him out of whatever strangeness was plaguing his sleep. He wasn’t prepared for Merlin to scream his name in panic and flail so hard that he knocked Arthur in the head. 

“Ow!” Arthur exclaimed. “Damn it, Merlin! Wake up!”

With a sharp gasp, Merlin sat bolt upright, looking frantically around the room. His wide eyes came to rest on Arthur and Arthur was surprised to see them well up with tears. “Oh, thank God!” Merlin gasped, reaching for Arthur and clinging as though his life depended on it.

“Merlin!” Arthur said, exasperated, looking down on the dark head that was trying to burrow into his chest. “What on Earth -- _Mer_ lin!”

Arthur was starting to get a little concerned. Merlin wouldn’t look at him and his whole body was trembling. Whatever he’d been dreaming had obviously affected him badly. Arthur started rubbing his hand soothingly along Merlin’s back. Before long, he could hear Merlin mumbling. Straining a little, he could barely make out words.

“Zombies...Whole world had ended...everything destroyed.... Then -- Then -- You...and chasing...and...and... OH MY GOD! THEY WERE EATING --” Merlin cut himself off with a gasping sob and tried to burrow deeper into Arthur’s chest. Arthur glanced down and was caught in the bright blue of Merlin’s panicked gaze, and he could tell that his lover was still caught up in his nightmare. 

“Easy, love,” Arthur soothed, kissing the top of Merlin’s head. “I’m right here.” He rolled his eyes and couldn’t quite believe he was saying this. “The zombies didn’t get me.”

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered and then surged forward, crushing his mouth to Arthur’s. The kiss was rough, desperate, needy, and Arthur was caught completely by surprise when he felt Merlin’s hand trail down his body and wrap around his half-hard cock, stroking with obvious intent.

“Merlin?” Arthur breathed into the mouth that was firmly attached to his own. 

Merlin pulled back and buried his face against Arthur’s neck, licking and kissing at whatever skin he could reach. “Alive,” he whimpered. “You’re alive. Arthur, please -- Need -- Please...”

Arthur closed his eyes. He could hear the desperation in Merlin’s voice, and who was he to deny his partner comfort? “Yesss,” he hissed as Merlin jerked his cock. 

Merlin scrambled around until he straddled Arthur’s hip and then sank straight down, still open and loose from their earlier coupling, taking Arthur in all at one shot. After that, it was a blur of Merlin riding him rough, hard, and fast. Arthur reached out to help Merlin along, only to discover that his lover wasn’t more then half-hard.

Merlin batted his hand away. “No,” he panted. “Not going to.”

“But --” Arthur protested.

“Don’t care,” Merlin growled, speeding the rhythm of his hips. “Just want to -- want to feel --”

And then Arthur was beyond arguing as his orgasm hit him hard; and he arched his back, burying himself as deep as he could as he came with a shout.

~*~*~

Later, Arthur lay on his back with Merlin’s head on his shoulder, listening to the sounds of Merlin’s even breathing. As his eyes slipped closed, Merlin’s voice broke the silence. “You know,” he said with a yawn. “My dream wasn’t _all_ bad.”

Arthur blinked and grunted out an “oh?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said softly. “See, there was also these really adorable kittens. Well,” he paused, considering. “I mean, they were adorable if you think zombie kittens are, you know, _‘adorable’_.”

Arthur snorted. _Only Merlin,_ he thought fondly. 

“That’s not the best part, though.” Merlin paused expectantly. Arthur’s sleep “hmmmm?” must have been enough because Merlin said, “No. The best part? They were fucking! Can you believe that? Fucking zombie kittens!”

Arthur stared at the top of Merlin’s head, dumbfounded. He could feel the curl of his lover’s smile against his chest and Merlin’s body trembled against him with laughter. With an amused snort and a smile, Arthur groaned, “You’re mind is a very strange and scary place, Merlin,” and he settled back down to sleep.

* * *

**66**

Warnings: Fuck or Die, dubious medical advice, drug use (Viagra w/o a prescription), established relationship

Arthur’s dick was on fire. Not literally, but all things considered, fire may have hurt less than the erection he was currently sporting. He grumbled and folded his arms across his chest mulishly, not caring if he came across as childish. “I don’t think the ‘professional’ who saw us was a real doctor. I mean, how is telling someone they have to ‘Fuck or Die’ medically sound?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “The doctor didn’t actually say ‘Fuck or Die.’ He said he wanted you to try another orgasm before something more invasive.” Arthur wanted to punch Merlin in the balls for his overly patient tone of voice; _his_ dick wasn’t the one suffering from a six-hour erection.

“But I’ve _had_ an orgasm! _Three_ , if you’ll recall!” Arthur lifted up his medical gown and pointed at his penis. “Look at it! It’s purple! It’s not supposed to be purple, Merlin! It’s obviously going to fall off—“

“Your dick isn’t going to _fall off_ , Arthur.”

“That’s not what the doctor implied! This is entirely your fault for manipulating me into taking Viagra. ‘ _It’ll be fun, Arthur!_ ” He mimicked and then pointed at his crotch. “Does this look fun to you!”

Merlin winced and looked at the erection in question. “Maybe if I used my mouth?”

Arthur scrubbed his face and groaned. “I’d rather you do nothing at all, but seeing as how it’ll _fall off_ if I don’t come again, your mouth will have to do.” 

“So glad I could be of service, my Lord,” Merlin responded, flip. He was careful to avoid Arthur’s IV when climbing on the bed and straddled his knees. “Let me know if this gets too painful, yeah?” Arthur nodded and Merlin leaned forward to give a tentative lick.

It fucking _burned_. The heat of Merlin’s tongue licking at the head of his pained prick was too much, and Arthur hissed and pulled away. Merlin looked up, alarmed. 

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “Sensitive – need a moment.” He focused on his breath to calm himself and closed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

The second time Merlin’s lips kissed his erection it was still painful, but definitely bearable. Merlin kept the pressure of his tongue light and quick, and used his fingers to squeeze Arthur’s arse to distract him from the painful ache of his cock. 

Merlin’s thumbs caressed the juncture where Arthur’s thighs met his groin and hummed around his erection while he pushed his thumbs in harder, drawing the pain from his prick and turning it into pleasure elsewhere. Arthur moaned his appreciation and reached under his hospital gown to pinch his nipples, utilizing Merlin’s idea of pain elsewhere as a distraction. 

The too-sensitive ache of his erection faded. Magic fingers and a sinful tongue made him forget the circumstances of his impromptu hospital visit. Merlin pulled off his cock with a pop, and then dove back down to deep throat him. The sound alone made his gut twist with arousal. It was messy and wet, and sounded filthy and obscene. When Arthur looked down, Merlin’s lips looked bruised and his cheeks hollow. The sight of it punched his heart, his sudden need for Merlin terrifying in its intensity.

He felt flushed and sweaty, certain the room’s temperature had increased ten degrees. Merlin’s finger rubbed at the rim of his arsehole, dry and rough as it pushed in. The combination of Merlin’s mouth, finger, visage, and _love_ were like the four fucking horsemen of the apocalypse, announcing the end of his world. He could feel his body’s surrender, and his balls draw up, signaling the end.

When Merlin’s finger brushed his prostate, the universe fucking _shifted_ , and everything went sideways for a moment as he came. He felt like he had just been launched into space and crashed violently back into his body, pain and pressure subsiding, his cock throbbing with relief, finally softening. 

When he opened his eyes, Merlin’s smug grin greeted him. The pleasure of release was still skittering up and down his spine, so he refrained from punching the look off his face. He groaned and rolled his eyes, however. “If you think an ace blowjob negates the fact that you broke my knob, think again.” 

Merlin bit his lip, feigning chastisement. “So…does this mean you’re not interested in trying-–“ Arthur lifted his legs to knock Merlin to the floor. “Oi! Okay! I’m sorry!”

“Too fucking right, you are. Viagra _indeed_.” Arthur closed his eyes and smiled, finally sated.

* * *

**67**

Arthur still dreams of that last day, on the rare occasions he finds somewhere safe enough to sleep. He’s forgotten her face. He thinks her hair was dark, but it is so hard to remember in a world where everything is dark. He remembers her eyes, though, golden and burning as she shouted words that destroyed the sun and everything that ever mattered… or once mattered, because now he cannot remember any of it. His mind is a blank.  
He has been traveling without sleep for days when he meets the other man on the road. It has been so long since Arthur has seen anyone else that he knows he must be dreaming, especially since the man’s face reminds him of her’s… Morgana. Oh God, Morgana. He can barely remember his own name, and certainly no one else’s, but now, for whatever reason, he remembers Morgana. 

The man has her eyes, too, that glowing gold. At one point Arthur would have been afraid of them, but now they just intrigue him. He reaches out and touches the man’s face, and the man lets him, with a sad sort of smile. Arthur knows there is something more in that smile. He leans forward and presses his lips against the other man’s, trying to find it. The man lets him do that, too.

“Ar…” the man begins. Arthur quiets him with another kiss. It hurts more than he expected to hear the man’s voice, maybe because he is so unused to the sound, and maybe because the voice is familiar, a knife to his heart. So he kisses, and touches, running his hands under the other man’s clothes and pulling him down to the ground, right there on the side of the road. There is no one to see them there anyway. As far as Arthur knows, it could be just the two of them left in the whole world.

The man is panting now as Arthur peels off his tattered clothes, reveals the pale flesh beneath. Everything is pale here, and Arthur thinks this man fits in well with the rest of the world. He belongs here. Arthur does not.

“Oh, Arthur,” the man breathes, and Arthur flinches back.

“No,” he says, using his voice for the first time in what seems like years. “Please, don’t.”

He doesn’t say what, but the man understands. He falls silent. Arthur bows his head again and continues with his task, until the man is laid naked before him. He is beautiful, Arthur thinks. The only beautiful thing left.

There is something addictive about the taste of the man’s flesh as Arthur drags his lips over it, kissing, biting, marking every inch. As he moves lower the man’s cock grows harder, and this is familiar too, and Arthur takes it in his mouth without a moment’s thought. This is right. Finally, something makes sense.

The man groans. “Arthur,” he breathes, but it is only a breath, and Arthur cannot fault the man for breathing, so he ignores it and continues down the man’s body until he finds that little starburst of flesh, so incredible he has to kiss it, lave at it with his tongue until it opens for him. Welcoming him home, Arthur thinks, and before he can fully realize what he is thinking his own trousers are down and he is sinking into the softest, most wonderful thing he has ever felt. But he’s felt it before, he realizes, and in an instant it all comes rushing back.

“Merlin,” he gasps, “Oh, god, Merlin, _Merlin_ , I thought you were dead, I thought…”

“Shh, it’s all right, I know.” Merlin reaches up and caresses Arthur’s face, and Arthur has to laugh at how ridiculous it all is, even when Merlin’s hand comes away wet with tears. “My king.”  
 _King of what?_ Arthur nearly asks, _King of a wasteland? A Camelot that never was, except in your head, you crazy, incredible sorcerer?_ , but he knows it will upset Merlin, that he could not stop Morgana’s rage, that everything was gone but them, so instead he thrusts his hips and gives Merlin the only thing he can – for just a little while, he makes Merlin forget.

* * *

**68**

Title: The last three human words 1/2

Death of main characters (but of course there will be death) and of the rest of humanity... basically the end of the world.

Merlin felt Arthur's arms wrap around his waist and he took another shuddering breathe.

"Don't cry now love." Arthur whispered against his neck and pressed a soft kiss there. 

Merlin turned around in his arms and pressed his face to the side of Arthur's neck, breathing him in, deep into his lunges so he will never forget.

"Arthur…" He whispered softly and kissed his cheek.

"I know." Arthur whispered back and his grip tightened as he pressed his lips to Merlin's, hard and desperate.

Merlin closed his eyes tightly and kissed back, willing the tears not to fall, not yet, not now.

Arthur's hands tugged at the edge of his shirt and Merlin lifted his own, allowing Arthur to remove it. Arthur smoothed his hands over Merlin's chest, again and again like he couldn't get enough, will never get enough.

"Merlin…" His voice broke just a fraction as he pulled Merlin closer, tugging on his waist band.

Merlin complied and took off his pants while Arthur u _ndressed himself._

 _"Our sun," The news said. "Is growing faster_ than we expected …"

They pressed together again, pressing every inch of skin they could to the other, hands caressing skin over and over again, pressing kisses and markers to whatever patch they could.

"Gods, Merlin…" Arthur said against his lips and Merlin chocked back a cry, his hands tightening around Arthur's neck and his legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he carried him up the s _tairs to their bedroom._

 _"I'm sorry my boy," Gaius's voice was grave and serious. "The_ re is nothing you can do."

Arthur laid him down on the bed and stood back to stare at him, his eyes racking over Merlin's naked form, intense and glittering. "I could never," He started and took a step closer. "I can't stop looking at you M, I can't, I could never get enough, do you get that?"

He climbed on the bed and pressed himself closer to Merlin who grabbed him hard and pressed closer, trying to meld their bodies into one.

"Never enough M, not enough." Arthur whispered as he pressed kisses to Merlin's face and neck and chest. Merlin's fingers curled in Arthur's hair and pulled him up again.

"No, not today, I want, I need to see you, all the time Arthur, always." Merlin said and one tear escaped, Arthur licked it from his cheek and buried his face in Merlin's hair, breathing in and raising his face to stare at Merlin's golden eyes when Merlin whispered the spell and slicked himself. 

"Your eyes…" He said and his finger pressed against Merlin's hole. "Have I ever told you how lovely your eyes are like that? All golden and shining?" Merlin's breath hitched and he nodded, more tears escaping as Arthur's fingers spread him open.

"It's not enough though." Merlin whispered back and Arthur kissed him, their teeth clicking to _gether._

 _"I tried Morgana," Merlin said and Morgan nodded once and walked away, Gwen's hand clutched tightly in_ her hand.

"Ready?" Arthur whispered and pressed another kiss to Merlin's mouth, gentle and adoring.

"Always." Merlin whispered back and kept his eyes open, needing to see Arthur when he pressed in.

Arthur's eyes were pools of glistening blue as he stared at Merlin while he pressed in and out, slow, steady, savoring the feeling of being together, as close to one another as can be.

Merlin knew he was crying but there was nothing he could do about it and Arthur closed his eyes for a moment before he kissed him again, the speed moving up, fa _ster now, harder._

 _"We will see you again," Morgana's voice was cheerful and Arthur knew she was crying. "You won't get read of me that easily brother." Arthur smiled. "I know." He said and heard Morgana's sniffle. "Take care of him Arthur." Arthur swal_ lowed hard. "Always."

"Arthur…" Merlin's breath hitched and Arthur pressed harder, his hands gripping Merlin's, their wedding bands knocking together and glinting gold in the sun. 

"Merlin…" Arthur whispered and pressed another kiss to his mouth, his cheek, his eyelids, everywhere he could, he will never get enough.

"Arthur I-" Merlin started to say before his eyes closed and he came, his muscles gripping Arthur's cock hard and wrenching his own climax out of him.

The sun was shining brighter now and Arthur knew it was coming, Merlin's tear-filled eyes showed he knew it too.

"I love you Merlin." Arthur said with a kiss before the wave hit them.

"I love you."

* * *

**69**

The world ends quietly.

Balinor always thought that the end of humanity would be a chaotic one—fire, lightning, earthquakes, screaming—but instead everyone around him falls into a deep sleep seemingly as one and simply never wake up.

He has no idea if the same thing has happened worldwide, but given that his magic can’t sense anyone else, Balinor can assume that’s likely. He searches for other signs of human life near daily, but all he ever passes are more bodies in the same deep sleep as everyone else. The city falls into ruin almost overnight, and Balinor slowly comes to terms with the fact that he seems to be the only person left.

He wonders if his magic is the reason he’s still alive, and at first Balinor hates it, wants to rip it out of himself for keeping him awake when everyone he knows is now as good as dead, but in the end, he knows he never will. His magic is a part of him, and though he now hates his existence, all he can do is try and move on with his life.

Not that there’s much of a life left to be had. No matter how many spells he sends out searching for other people, no matter how far he walks, there’s never anyone else.

Where humanity has stopped, plant and animal life thrives, and it only takes a year before the city of Armagh can be considered a veritable jungle.

And still, Balinor can find no one else. The loneliness is slowly driving him insane, of that he is acutely aware, but he still fights to hold onto what makes him human: he still wears clothes, he still bathes, and he still brushes his teeth.

But he stops shaving, for the most part, lets his beard grow, and he doesn’t bother talking to fill in the silence, letting his voice grow hoarse from misuse.

As the years pass, Balinor begins travelling beyond Armagh, searching ever further, even though he’s long since given up hope of ever finding anyone else.

Seven years to the day the world fell silent, he finds Hunith.

Balinor had to travel all the way to London to find her, and she’s beautiful. She accepts his magic without question, accepts _him_ , and Balinor thinks he might be in love with her.

She asks him to stay, and only then does Balinor realise just how much he’s missed having human company. Hunith is like a breath of fresh air, and as time passes, he only falls more and more in love with her; her smile, her laugh, her temperament.

She makes the first move, to his surprise, climbing into his bed one night and whispering that she wants him. Balinor is only a man, and it’s impossible to resist her.

The two of them move together, her on his lap, Balinor thrusting up into her, feeling her around him, warm and wet and just like heaven. She comes with a quiet gasp of pleasure, and Balinor can’t stop himself from letting go as he clings to her almost desperately.

When their son Merlin is born several years later, Balinor’s magic still hasn’t found any other signs of human life, but then, he and Hunith haven’t gone looking since they found each other. But Merlin might one day, Balinor thinks, when he hears the story of how far his father travelled to find his mother, and for the first time in a long time Balinor has hope that the three of them aren’t the only people left in the world.

Maybe, when he’s much older, Merlin will eventually find his soulmate, too.

* * *

**70**

Warnings: Male on male sex; Set between 4.3 and 4.9, or whenever Arthur is king and disregarding all Gwen/Arthur

For Camelot  
\---  
“I have to what?”

“Copulate, sire.”

Arthur continued to stare at Gaius, shaking his head. “Why? With whom? When?” He spun on his heel to start pacing again.

Gaius cocked his head. “I believe the spell implied Camelot’s falling to the quakes but there was no time frame nor stipulations. However, I would suggest it be taken care of very soon. I don’t know how much more we can endure. The shakes continue to worsen, sire.”

Arthur nodded, staring at the stones beneath his feet as his mind flew. He could feel himself starting to flush. “I will take care of it as soon as I can and hope the curse is lifted. If that is all?” Gaius nodded and left, not even leaving Merlin who had apparently been out helping in town all morning.

What had that witch been thinking, dooming Camelot unless Arthur took someone to his bed? How had she known he didn’t have someone every night? The thought made him shudder. Well, it couldn’t be helped now. He’d have to find someone, besides the someone he wanted anyway. A maid would do surely.

He’d just stepped into the hall when his intentions caught up to him and he found he couldn’t stomach the thought. Retreating to his room, he sat in front of the fire to weigh his options. Obviously he would have to get it over and done with, but using someone that way…He shook his head. He’d have to do something no matter what. And he should be out helping in the aftermath of the latest quake too. Instead he was holed up like a scared rabbit.

“Arthur, lunch.” Merlin’s sudden appearance nearly made him jump but he pushed the reaction down until it was just more jittering nonsense in his head. “And some news.” Merlin sat everything down with ease, seeming not to notice how tense Arthur was. “We lost one this morning, and a few pigs but everyone else is safe. They’re fortifying their homes and moving inside the castle walls. The knights-”

“What should I do, Merlin?”

There was a brief moment when he thought Merlin would pretend to misunderstand but thankfully, he didn’t. “Nothing you don’t want to.”

“For Camelot?” Arthur looked up to see Merlin watching him.

“For your own piece of mind, maybe. You can’t…Arthur, don’t rush into this. They can survive a couple days while you sort it out.”

Arthur laughed humorlessly. “What should I do, Merlin?” He wasn’t blind. He knew he relied on Merlin more than he should, wanted him around, wanted…wanted…everything.

Merlin bit his lip and searched Arthur’s face. Arthur hoped whatever he was looking for was there because everything else seemed to be and he had no idea where else it could be. But Merlin slowly straddled his lap and it took Arthur a moment to let himself breathe as Merlin settled, Arthur’s hands naturally going to his hips.

Merlin gave him a shy glance. “Nothing you don’t want to,” he repeated. 

Arthur felt as though he could come apart at the seams and not care. He tangled a hand in Merlin’s hair and crushed their mouths together on a gasp.

Softly, “For Camelot?”

“For my sanity.” He licked at sharp clavicles as Merlin tried to push Arthur’s shirt away. Arthur caught his hands and brought them back to his shoulders, biting at the tendons in his wrists.

Merlin wriggled and the next few minutes became a blur until Arthur realized his breeches were open and Merlin’s had somehow been pushed off entirely. He didn’t ask, far too preoccupied with Merlin sucking on his fingers and leading his hand around to push inside him with only a split-second hesitation.

On Merlin’s sharp inhale Arthur slowed, the frenzy dying back as he realized he had Merlin _straddling his lap_. “Alright?” Merlin asked, even as he rocked on Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur lost another few minutes in the haze until suddenly Merlin was sinking onto his cock and, shit when had that happened? Merlin took over then. Hell he’d been in control all along, and Arthur could only hold on as they hurtled toward some cliff he hadn’t known existed before he was swallowed in white.

He collapsed into his chair with Merlin curled up against his chest. His cock twitched in immediate interest. “How many times did the spell say?” Merlin blinked at him. “Perhaps we should be sure we did it correctly.”

Merlin smiled and laughed into his neck. “Of course, sire."

* * *

**71**

Warning: could seen as starting off dub-con for both parties

~~~~~

"I know that you want!" Prince Arthur cried.

The Cailleach blinked. "Do you?"

"I am prepared to pay whatever price is necessary."

When Prince Arthur hit the ground with a thud, the Cailleach sighed. Really, these _boys_.

"So, Emrys," she murmured, eyeing the two who were left, "what did that youngling Gaius tell you this time? A unicorn's hoof? Dew gathered on a mountaintop at dawn on Samhain?"

"A blood sacrifice," Emrys declared, chin jutting out in anger.

 _Dear me_. How ridiculous these Roman educations could be.

"I am the goddess of winter," she replied flatly. "By earth and stone, why would I need another life? I collect thousands every year."

Emrys blinked, confused. "But then, what-?"

"But a _virgin_ sacrifice," the Cailleach purred. "Those I don't see every day."

"I'm not- not a virgin," Merlin admitted, ears going red.

The Cailleach smiled and turned, catching the eye of that handsome young knight who was trying to sneak past them. "One is enough, I think."

The knight's eyes widened.

~~~~~

The altar was rather small. Lancelot shifted, then spent several more breaths reassuring Merlin that it was _fine_ , really, he didn't need a goosedown mattress for his first time. Though the threat of the prince or Gwaine waking up did have his heart going _pitter patter_ in his chest. Or perhaps that was the sight of Merlin, shirtless, rising above him like a selkie from a dark ocean. Around them, the night air shivered with fae laughter.

"Well, this isn't awkward or anything," Merlin muttered, trying to hide his peaking nipples with one hand. "Can we take it as given that I could do better if we weren't being watched through an open portal between worlds by various unnamed dead people?"

Lancelot felt his cock begin to wilt. "Not helping."

Merlin looked down. "No, ah. I suppose not."

"But Merlin." Lancelot had to say this. He had to say this _now_ , or he would never build up the courage again. "I would have done it. For you."

Merlin looked puzzled.

"The veil," Lancelot explained, or tried to. "I meant to go through it. While you were distracted."

Merlin's eyes widened; he blanched. "No! No, Lancelot. You-" 

He dove down, seemingly out of words, and kissed Lancelot so fiercely it stole his breath. 

"You are not," Merlin said forcefully against Lancelot's stubbled chin, "to ever even _think_ about letting yourself die. Never. If Gwen wouldn't kill me, Arthur would, and if they both missed I'd still hate myself forever. You-" and now his nails were digging into Lancelot's shoulders, "-are not expendable. I don't know where you got that cocked up idea, but all the people who love you? Want you to live. That's kind of the way people are."

Love? Oh. _Oh._

"And would." Lancelot cleared his throat. "Would you happen to be one of those people who wants me to live?"

Merlin's blush was almost as bright as his grin.

~~~~~

"Merlin," Lancelot gasped. "Merlin!"

Sweat slicked Merlin's pale chest as he lifted himself, eyelashes fluttering in pleasure, and drove his body back down to meet Lancelot's hips, which stuttered helplessly. Merlin's mouth was a dark O, rimmed by the bitten red of his lips. Lancelot clutched at his skin, hands roving, and still he could not touch enough, hold tight enough. His cock twitched helplessly in Merlin's hot, clenching hole. It was too much, and not enough.

"Merlin," he whimpered, pleading for mercy. And Merlin gave it to him, pinning them both down to the rapidly-warming altar and rocking his hips in delicious circles.

"We could have been doing this for _ages_ ," Merlin gasped. "Ages and ages - oh!"

Lancelot didn't say he'd been saving himself for love. It felt rather foolish in hindsight.

"Please," was all he whispered, hoping Merlin understood the layers of meaning in that simple word.

He seemed to understand at least part of it, because he leaned forward, pressing his palms to Lancelot's shoulders and pinning him down, rocking faster and faster, his knees clamped to Lancelot's sides like burning brands.

"Now," Merlin hissed, "now, now, now - oh!"

Lancelot's world tightened down to the heated points where Merlin's skin touched his, then shivered loose into white that left him breathless and aching.

~~~~~

Neither of them noticed when the ~~great vagina~~ veil closed, quietly, with an air of smugness.

* * *

**72**

“You should know that this isn’t to do- I still don’t believe any of what Kilgharrah spouted,” Arthur says abruptly as soon as Merlin opens his door. It’s stupidly late (early), and Merlin had been tearing his hair out trying to find a way to Ealdor all evening.  Except everyone else had realised that the whole end of the world is nigh thing was legit, too. He couldn't exactly begrudge the train operators their chance to be at home, and even if he had a car, the roads were gridlocked. He’d never get anywhere near home.

“Okay. What are you doing here, then?”

_And not with your family, or your mates?_

They’d known each other for a while, but apart from a particularly frosty first meeting where Arthur had been an utter arse and Merlin had overestimated his level of charm, the only interaction they’d had was a few words exchanged over beers or stilted small talk while waiting for their friends to turn up. Until a couple of weeks ago, that is.

Merlin had received an email summoning him to a Professor Kilgharrah’s office, and Arthur turned up as well. Neither of them had Kilgharrah as a lecturer, but they had both soon learned that _that_ was the least weird thing about the meeting.

_Merlin stared. Arthur stared._

_Dr. Kilgharrah stared back, completely unaware of the insanity of what he’d just said._

_“Arthur and I... need to sleep with each other.”_

_“Yes, young Merlin.”_

_“Because if we don’t... the ‘balance of nature’ will be ruined, and the earth as we know it will cease to exist. That’s what you’re saying?”_

_“Yes, that’s exactly it! I can think of no reason for your confused expressions; you appear to understand me perfectly.”_

Kilgharrah had handed them both pages of text, pictures, and diagrams, even Arthur’s _family crest,_ to try to back up the story he’d just told them, referring to the apparently imminent collision of a meteor with Earth, and that he was just trying to help them _achieve their destiny_ , because they were being _stubborn_.

Merlin really had begun to wonder if it was all a ploy by Gwaine to try and get him to _just shag Arthur already, God_ before he realised _he_ was being insane for even considering it. After he and Arthur had left Kilgharrah’s office, they’d laughed it off and gone their separate ways, talking even less when they miraculously ended up sat next to each other at the pub.

Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin, like usual, muttering something like ‘ _spell everything out’_ before stepping forward and kissing him, tangling his fingers in Merlin’s hair. Merlin stumbles backwards, letting go of the door handle and hearing it click shut, trying to decide whether to push Arthur off and demand whether he thinks he’s being funny, or pull him closer and give Merlin’s poor mind a break from having to _imagine_ this.

Arthur decides for Merlin, sliding his hands to Merlin’s shoulders and pressing him up against the wall and, oh, okay, Arthur is extremely committed to this if it is all a joke.

A very nice, thorough, _exhausting_ joke.  
  
*  
  
Arthur all but collapses on top of Merlin, resting his forehead on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Well I suppose we definitely can’t be blamed for anything, now, yeah?” Merlin says, still slightly breathless. Arthur looks at him, a slight crease between his brows.

“I told you, I don’t believe-“

“I know, I was just... ” Merlin says, trailing off and shrugging. Arthur kisses him again, so slowly and softly that Merlin’s heart nearly breaks at the knowledge that this is all they're going to get.  
  
*  
  
 _“A very good morning to everyone! It’s nice to be here, even though the weather here in London doesn’t seem to care that we just had a very near miss with the apocalypse. I think next time we'll get the scientists to triple-check their calculations...”_

Merlin’s phone rings just after his clock radio goes off, and he blinks at the ceiling for a few seconds, just... breathing. He goes to retrieve his phone from his jeans pocket, and sure enough it’s his mother, who is absolutely hysterical and demanding he comes home at once.

“Yeah, I will, Mum. Soon as.”

He looks back to Arthur, who gets up and walks past him to the kitchen, a slight smirk on his lips. Merlin narrows his eyes at him, but Arthur shakes his head with a wry smile and sets about making tea.

* * *

**73**

It’s freezing in the deserted streets of what used to be north London. Merlin’s leaning against Arthur’s car, looking so tired and broken and _human_ that it makes Arthur ache.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket and goes to Merlin, standing so their shoulders are pressed together. 

“So.”

Merlin glances at him and smiles, but it’s not his real smile, not the huge, eye-crinkling delight that had Arthur tripping over himself from the moment they met. 

“Last night on earth,” Arthur tries again, and Merlin tips his head back and laughs softly and it warms Arthur’s chest. 

“Really?” Merlin asks. “You’re giving me the last night on earth speech? ”

Arthur laughs with him, but catches Merlin’s sleeve and tugs him around to look at him. “It really is it this time,” he says. “Big showdown’s tomorrow. I don’t think I’m coming back; most people don’t, battling Lucifer.”

Arthur pauses, then can’t stop the words tumbling out. “God, Merlin, you’ve done so much for me, you’ve given so much, I just want - ”

Merlin cups his cheek and tilts Arthur’s face up to look at him, blue eyes serious and a little sad, and Arthur is, as usual, hopelessly transparent before him. Merlin leans in slowly and kisses him gently.

It’s their first kiss, but it feels like their thousandth.

“I’m yours,” Merlin whispers. “I have been, from the moment I brought you back, and Arthur,” Arthur’s eyes close; he can’t bear to have Merlin looking at him like this, not when they have so little time left, “I would not exchange a moment of it.” 

Arthur lets out a shuddering breath and tugs Merlin forward, seeking his mouth instinctively. 

“Merlin, please, I want,” is all he manages before there’s a rustle of wings, the smell of ozone, and they’re gone.

*

The motel room is cheap, but it’s clean and there’s a bed, so Arthur’s not about to complain.

“I thought you were all out of - ” he wiggles his fingers, which Merlin must understand by now is his code for weird-angel-magic-mojo. Merlin rolls his eyes and pushes Arthur down on the bed. 

“I had a little bit left.”

“And you chose to use it for this?” Arthur’s voice is teasing, but the look Merlin gives him is anything but; there’s such sadness and want in it that Arthur can’t bear it. He drags Merlin down after him and flips them, pinning Merlin underneath him and nuzzling his neck.

They spend ages just kissing, exploring the taste of each other’s mouths, hips rocking gently together. It feels like maybe it should be different - frantic and desperate - but he loves this, lying here with Merlin as if they have all the time in the world.

Minutes, hours later, Merlin sighs when Arthur pushes inside, pulling him closer with his heels on the backs of Arthur thighs, kissing his cheekbone. “Please, Arthur, please,” is all he says, and Arthur can’t deny that voice.

Before long, Merlin shoves at his shoulders until he sits back, following him up and seating himself in Arthur’s lap, Arthur still inside him. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and starts to rock back and forwards, and Arthur catches on quickly, fucking up into Merlin in little thrusts that have Merlin panting in his ear.

And he knows, whether he lives for twenty-four more hours or twenty-four more years, he’s never going to forget the way Merlin’s eyes widen, the shocked, desperate look on his face, the way he stutters _Arthur_ when he comes. 

*

“Merlin?”

“Mmm?” Merlin stirs from his doze on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur hesitates over the words he wants to say.

“Everyone’s told me that...that it’s my destiny to do this, that this is why I was brought back, but...what if it’s not? What if I fail? I’m just a man, I don’t have any special - ”

Merlin climbs on top of him, gazing down at him with unusual fire in his eyes.

“I spent thousands of years being taught about _destiny_ \- ” he spits the word out “- but the one thing _you’ve_ taught me is that there’s no such thing. You’re doing this because you’re a good man, because you know you can. You are doing this,” and he leans in until he’s nose-to-nose with Arthur, breathing the words against his lips, “because it is your choice.” 

And Arthur can’t do anything else but pull him in and kiss him until they both forget that the world is burning.


	4. Group A (without warnings)

**01**

XXX

Gwaine stumbled out of the woods and into a military compound. He knew it was military because the building was a giant, windowless cement cube. 

If that hadn’t clued him in, his immediate tasering would’ve done the trick.

XXX

Gwaine woke to a swimmy green and gold vision. He blinked. The vision resolved itself into a very stern looking man in uniform.

“Mind explaining how you waltzed onto my base through a red zone with a clean health profile?” Blondie said. 

“Oh, that?” Gwaine grinned, licking blood off his teeth. Probably bit his tongue when they zapped him. “I’m immune, I guess. Crawled through swarms of all-too-willing volunteers, but hey, I enjoy a chase—” he stopped, eyes widening at the sudden ring of rifle muzzles circling him. “Uh. Wrong thing to say?” 

“That depends,” Blondie said, wary now. 

“Oh what?” 

“Whether or not you’re a carrier.”

XXX

“The problem,” the cute guy in the lab coat with the charming ears explained, “is that we don’t know enough about this disease. Some patients present immediately, while others go weeks without showing symptoms and unwittingly pass on the pathogen.”

“You think I’m the latter?” Gwaine asked, submitting his tongue and fingertips for mucus and tissue samples. 

“That’s the thing,” Ears said. “Your blood panels came back clean. We have no reason to think you’re a carrier, but it’s not worth the risk.”

XXX

There’d been rumours of quarantine camps on the outside. The following day, Gwaine got to see them.

From a safe distance two stories above them, he watched the infected writhe and rut, fucking in pairs and groups and using the few “safety verified” government-issued toys. 

It might’ve been erotic, were it not for the...noises. Desperate, plaintive — an agonized cacophony muffled through three feet of glass. 

Gwen, another member of Team Science (so dubbed by Gwaine), patted his shoulder as she led him back to the commons.

XXX

Gwen was the first casualty.

She’d been drawing blood from a patient in solitary. Morgana. None of the other patients had names; Gwaine understood enough to know Morgana was a special case. 

Morgana lifted Gwen’s helmet and kissed her. Gwen didn’t stop her. Soldiers were storming the corridor before their lips separated, but Gwen was quick. She threw her body at the door, security protocols automatically sealing them inside. 

The surveillance team erupted into chaos. Gwaine stared at the live feed, watched Gwen press her hands to her ears, shaking her head. 

Over the open comm, the sound of orders and alarms and marching boots slowly quieted to one voice. 

“Gwen!” Merlin shouted, followed by the muffled thump of his fists hitting the door. “Gwen! Gwen, no! _Gwen_ ,” he choked off on a jagged sound. A hushing noise, and the comm went dead.

XXX

Gwaine skipped the updated protocol briefing and wandered the greenhouse instead. Gwen had toured him here too, explaining any hope of a cure would be found organically, not synthetically.

Hearing muffled voices, he froze, searching out the source. 

Under a small copse of trees, Arthur rocked Merlin in a tight embrace, letting him shake and weep against his shoulder. Gwaine retreated quietly when Arthur slipped to his knees before Merlin, gripping his narrow hips in two large hands.

XXX

Team Science was hobbled without her. Team Military brought back increasingly unsavoury reports from the outside.

The mood in the compound downshifted to desperate. 

They lost three more patients to complications from the infection. 

Arthur cut the surveillance feed from Morgana’s cell.

XXX

“Gwen said the key to finding the cure was natural,” Gwaine pressed. “What if you’re just missing...the right ingredients?”

“We are. A fundamental molecular sequence from her model. Our resources are limited, so our best bet is a synthetic recreation,” Merlin said dully. 

Gwaine raked his hands through his hair. He was no scientist.

XXX

They brought Edwin inside because his initial tests ran clean. _Like Gwaine_ , they’d thought.

But Edwin’s virus was an unfamiliar strain: mutated, virulent. He’d spit in Merlin’s face and laughed, hysterical, before Arthur put a bullet between his eyes. 

Too late.

XXX

Merlin tried to run. Arthur caught him and shoved him into a wall; kissed him.

Merlin backhanded him so hard Arthur’s nose broke. 

Gwaine helped separate them; it was unclear whether they were fighting or clinging to each other.

XXX

It didn’t occur to him until much later, as he washed red from his hands and beard.

It hit Gwaine, with a gut-lancing sense of clarity, that his blood was an organic compound too.

* * *

**02**

Merlin unhooks his feet from the legs of the desk, letting his chair fall to the floor. “How long are we supposed to wait?”

Arthur ignores him until Merlin screws up a wodge of notebook and bounces it off his head. “No idea. It’s not as if being the headmaster’s son gives me some special insight into detention no-show protocol.”

They give it another hour before stomach grumbles push them out into the corridor. “Where are the cleaners? Where are the first years and the – ” Merlin waves at the general emptiness of the space. “ – hullabaloo? How long were we in there?”

Snuffling – grunting, aggressive snuffling – cuts off whatever Arthur was about to say. He flattens to the alumni portraits on the wall, beckoning Merlin to slot in behind. A schlop, a gurgle, and out of the History classroom hops a rabbit. Fat, grey, it lifts its lip in a feral sneer, blood and saliva dribbling from its teeth.

“What the – ”

With a brutal, primordial scream, the rabbit charges, eyes blazing a vindictive red.

Fumbling for the back of Arthur’s shirt, Merlin scarpers. All he did was sell oregano to the year nines and pretend it was weed – if this is some sick punishment of Uther’s – 

They scramble to the common room, skidding around the frame in a cloud of elbows. The air – rank with metal – has them both sleeving their noses, and on the paisley carpet, corpses lie twisted like hazel, bones protruding in white flashes through broken skin.

A frantic glance at Arthur – stricken – but there’s no time to pick up Gwaine’s necklace or Leon’s family ring. In amongst the bodies hop dozens of rabbits, crimson saliva on their fur glinting in the scant light from the mullioned windows.

“Get out!” Arthur sounds more like a general from some black and white film than himself. He grabs Merlin’s arm and they run – they run all the way to the sports hall, where Arthur throws himself on the fire exit door. He bounces off it, chain on the other side rattling.

Snuffling and a lollop, irascible and closer outside –

Trapped. Merlin looks around. “Pommel horse?” 

“How high do rabbits jump?” 

“The ropes, then, shin up – ”

“You’re useless at that. You’ll just slide to your death with added rope burn.”

When did Arthur notice that? 

“In here.” Arthur tugs him towards the cupboard, closing the door behind them. 

Dark engulfs them, stale feet sweat rising up off the mats to mingle with their rapid breaths. Merlin swallows – Arthur’s right there in all his skewed-tie glory, like the opening of one of his fantasies.

Arthur pats around, searching the shelves, dragging something down. “Cricket bats,” he whispers. “We’ll _Shaun of the Dead_ it out of here.” 

“Or we could just hide until it all goes away.” Acclimatising to the lack of light, Merlin picks out Arthur’s eyes. The displeasure in them does nothing to stop his cock from nudging the front of his trousers. “I don’t know how to bat.”

“We’re not playing a test match, Merlin.” Arthur thumps the handle to his chest. “Whack whatever moves. Ready?”

“Of course I’m not,” Merlin hisses, staring at the bat, imagining the head of a feral, blood-strewn rabbit beneath his swing. “How can I possibly be ready for a bunnypocalypse? There’s so much I’ve never done – I want to go to Paris and throw a padlock off a bridge and I want to meet Sting and tell him he’s a cock and I want to – ” Of its own accord, his palm flattens to Arthur’s chest. “I want to – ” Shit, his heart’s racing, too. “Oh, fuck it.” He launches himself at Arthur, more mouth-grope than kiss. 

Against his lips, Arthur takes a huge breath. Then – _god_ – his tongue’s on Merlin’s and his hands are everywhere.

A scrape at the bottom of the door, and Merlin pulls away, gasping and hard. “This could be our last – what’s your dying wish?”

Mouth open, throat working, Arthur’s fingers find Merlin’s shoulder and push him to his knees. Ignoring the scrabble, the swipe of paw through the chink of light, Merlin unzips him. Silky-smooth skin tickles against his fingertips, then his lips. He guides Arthur into his mouth with a hand on the curve of his arse, and prays with everything he has that they have time to take each other to the end of the world before the rabbit defeats the door.

* * *

**03**

The truck raged over the bleached bones, crunching them for the eddies to bleed across the frozen moor. Gaius would lecture him about wasting fuel, but Arthur didn’t care. Too many people had died protecting the stronghold. Grinding the monsters responsible to dust was the least he could do to avenge their memory.

Memories.

_Fuck._

Though his eyes burned, he refused to cry. Nobody would see him out here, but he didn’t dare allow the weakness. The remaining survivors needed a strong leader. He was all they had, ready for the role or not.

As much as Arthur revered Uther for saving him in an early attack, he hated him, too, for leaving him to do this alone.

More memories, bitter and unwanted.

Arthur blinked to clear his vision’s sudden blurring.

Clouds roiled along the horizon. In his destruction, he’d lost track of time—like time meant anything when the world crumbled around his ears. The storms were minutes away. Jerking the wheel around, he skidded across the ice, his pallid knuckles aching as he struggled to control the vehicle. He floored it before he’d straightened, and bone dust billowed with the exhaust trailing behind him.

His rising frustration obscured the ride back. He barely felt the wind needling his flesh when he climbed out to open the gate, or remembered pulling into the murky cave that served as the garage. But when he got out the second time, a shadow flickered at the corner of his eye.

He reached for his weapon on instinct.

“Arthur!”

Familiarity checked Arthur’s swing, but Percival slammed into him anyway, pinning Arthur to the truck and grabbing his wrist in an iron fist. The short sword clattered to the ground.

“You didn’t tell anyone you were leaving,” Percival accused.

Unspent adrenaline hummed through his veins. “I’m fine.”

“This time.”

“That’s all that matters.”

“Is it?”

He choked on the argument. They both knew actions had consequences. They’d learned that lesson from Merlin’s sacrifice.

A muscle twitched in Percival’s jaw. “You’re too valuable to lose. You know that.”

“Because someone has to be the leader?”

“No. Because not everybody who loves you died.”

Percival’s confession hung between them, tangible as his unyielding body, words surprising not for their content but their volume. Percival was his rock, always there, always watching, like today, yesterday, the days before that. He watched now, waiting as ever, and suddenly, Arthur was tired of grieving for all the people he’d—they’d—lost.

Their teeth knocked where Arthur crashed their mouths together, but the pain was welcome, the blood, too, as he pushed his tongue past Percival’s shocked lips. He couldn’t grab onto Percival like he needed, but he could squirm against him, force the contact, demand the response he could feel pulsing through their layers of clothing. 

Percival groaned. His free hand scooped beneath Arthur’s ass, squeezing hard enough to electrify Arthur’s balls, then hiked him up until Arthur had to coil his legs around Percival’s hips. The world tilted, different, new. Not better. He doubted it could ever be better, but perhaps not so bleak, here, locked within the tight circle of Percival’s arms, his ass clenching at the press of the thick, long cock against his growing arousal.

“Arthur…”

His whispered name was a plea. For all his strength, Percival would never take from Arthur, a certainty that emboldened Arthur to give it freely. He reached between them, clawing away barriers, moaning into Percival’s mouth when he did the same. The same power that held him up wrapped around his shaft, and Arthur tore away to gasp for breath.

He didn’t have to think. That was the true gift. The pleasure roared, dispelled ghosts in favor of heated skin and hungry fingers. He kept his eyes shut, when Percival turned him around, when they were molded front to back, when he came against the window and shuddered within Percival’s embrace.

They remained so until Percival pressed a gentle kiss to his sweaty neck.

“We have to keep on,” Percival murmured. “Otherwise, what’s the point of their losses?”

Words Merlin would’ve uttered before he’d given his life to create the sanctuary they needed against Morgana’s monsters. Words Gwen might’ve shared before she’d been torn apart in front of him. More valid considering the weight of their absence, the stalwart presence of the man at his back.

He opened his eyes. The tears fell.

For now, Percival would bear it for both of them. 

After, Arthur would be stronger.

* * *

**04**

“Come back to bed.”

Merlin watches Arthur pace back and forth across the carpet through hooded lids. He throws an arm out from under the duvet and waves it helplessly in Arthur’s direction. He’s tired. Three whole days trying to explain, trying to stop this…whatever _this_ is and he’s done.

Arthur doesn’t break his stride, long and purposeful and gloriously naked as the day he was born. 

“Don’t be stupid Merlin.”

“Come on.” Merlin whines, kicking at the blankets. His ankle escapes the cocoon of the sheets and traces up the back of Arthur’s calf. “Come spend the rest of your life with me.”

Arthur turns to shoot him a sharp look but Merlin’s foot continues to rub across Arthur’s shin, curls into the dip at the back of his knee and pulls him closer. The bed dips under the new weight and Arthur’s reluctance is clear on his face but he rests his head across Merlin’s stomach anyway. Outside the sky is bright, sun piercing through the split in the curtain, wrapping them in warmth that is cruelly misleading to a normal Sunday morning.

Merlin runs his fingers through the shaggy blonde hair that tickles his navel. Arthur’s breath is hot and wet against his skin, a painful hitch with every inhale.

“I don’t like this. It’s easier when I die first.”

“You’re just used to having everything your own way you stubborn prat.” Merlin rolls onto his side, sticky with sweat and come still drying between his thighs. “About time you had to cope without me. Never know, maybe this parallel world will be fun.” 

Arthur shifts further up the bed, fidgets until his chest is tight against Merlin’s back and their feet are tangled in the sheets. Facing death wasn’t a new challenge to either of them, facing the end of the world was.

Centuries of journeying together across Aztec continents, war-torn cities; of discovering the power of free love in New York and learning the quiet life of simple students in the next. They’d experienced it all. One died, then the other, and then they started all over again. Except this time.

Arthur presses his lips against the curve of Merlin’s neck. The distant sound of a motorbike kick-starting drifts up from the street below. Children laugh in the park opposite – life continues on unknowing what the two men in this room are sacrificing.

“How much longer?” Arthur asks.

Merlin can feel it under his skin. His magic. Thrumming with expectation, torn between what it wants and what it needs to do. He doesn’t answer, just reaches back and draws Arthur’s leg over his own, slotting his body exactly where it feels most at home. Merlin almost purrs as Arthur’s cock starts to harden, rubs across the crease of his arse where he’s still wet. Probably still red from where that dull ache lingers, the kind you only feel after being fucked good and hard all night. It’s not long before Arthur slides into Merlin completely, settles deep inside of him and begins to gently rock his hips. Slow, shallow movements that are never quite enough but always perfect. 

“Let’s be selfish.” Arthur speaks softly against the shell of his ear. “Let’s leave them to sort out their own mess.” It’s almost like a plea, but it’s not, cause it’s _Arthur_. Always strong and determined and so fucking noble. Merlin can only clutch Arthur’s hand tighter, pull it across his chest and keep it pressed against his heart. Says the words he always does whenever he has to let Arthur go. 

It’s time now. 

Arthur must feel it, speeds up his thrusts to the sound of Merlin’s stammered groans. Fucks him as if it could make a difference. Old English is slipping off Merlin’s tongue, specks of gold dancing across his eyes. Arthur’s whispering words Merlin will never remember, sealing each one into his skin. Pleasure builds in the pit of his stomach, rides that heightened line which tethers between pain and ecstasy. He comes with a burst of energy; it shakes through him right to his very core. When he blinks his eyes open he’s back in their apartment. The sky is grey and the sound of sirens and helicopters whirr past the window. And he’s alone.

* * *

**05**

Canon Era Steampunk Iron Man AU Part 1/2

Percival peered curiously through clouds of steam at the twisted mass of metal writhing on the floor of the smithy. “Good morning, Sir Elyan,” he greeted his fellow knight. “Are you well?”

Elyan grunted in effort to free himself from a complicated casing of gleaming plate mail. “I am FINE, Sir Percival. CLEARLY.” His voice was muffled behind the face plate.

Percival reached down to lift the visor, revealing Elyan’s pain-clenched, sweating face. “You look like you’re in a bit of a pickle, my friend. May I offer assistance? What do you wish to accomplish?”

“Well it… I was trying to… it’s supposed to…“ Elyan stuttered to an embarrassed stop. How to explain in words the man could grasp? “It’s a bit complex, to be honest, Percival. A blacksmith’s trade secret.”

Percival crouched to study the metal construct. “Well I can see the electro-magnetic field generated by your body reacts with this cadmium core, creating a static charge stored in glass jar capacitors which dispense the spark to those copper coils, creating heat to evaporate the water flowing from these reservoirs, producing pressurized steam to drive the hydraulic pistons that motivate your arm and leg joints. It’s a clever piece of work. But what’s it DO? ” 

Elyan’s eyes widened and he had the grace to flush. He accepted the hand offered, allowing Percival to haul him to his feet, arms bulging with the strain. “Errr… It’s basically a suit. Of armour.”

Percival nodded in interest.

“I calibrated a lamb-skin sound drum to interpret commands based on my heart-pulses. When I exert myself, in combat, for example, the mechanism basically adds extreme strength and speed to my natural movement. Creating a “super-knight”, as it were.” Elyan flushed, dark staining his cheeks, and he lowered his eyelashes.

“Unfortunately,” he winced, “There is a small tear in the sensor membrane, dulling its receptivity. It cannot sense the command to release the steam valve. I need to increase my heart-rate to maximum capacity, so the sensor will release the mechanism to retract the armour.”

“Perhaps I can pry it off?” Percival squeezed his fingers into a seam in the armour, muscles in his forearms and biceps bulging as he applied his considerable strength to the task. 

“No, ow, stop!” Elyan cried, and Percival eased off. “It resists force – it causes it to compress inward – I could risk serious injury if you try to force it.” He looked down as the plates drew silently together, tightening around the knight’s chest.

Percival frowned, alarmed. “I fear your life may be at great risk, my friend. We must find a way to free you. Have you attempted physical exertion, to raise your heart-rate to a more audible level?“

Elyan nodded. “Running, pushups, jumping jacks, until the armour became too tight for me to stand.” 

“You are well fit, my friend, trained for endurance. It will take more than a few training warm-ups to peak your heart-rate.” Percival stepped in close, stroked a thumb along Elyan’s lips. “We must seek other ways to ... get your heart going.” He offered a slow smile as he leaned in, taking Elyan’s mouth in a deep kiss.

Elyan gasped as his heart-beat jumped – then narrowed his eyes in a calculating gleam.

Percival’s eyebrows rose, and too perceptive for his own good, he stroked a hand over the groin protection on the armour. Iron scales shifted and reformed to accommodate the growth of Elyan’s reaction. Soon an armour-clad erection strained under Percival’s touch. He grinned.

Moments later found Percival’s trousers at his ankles, bent over the anvil, Elyan’s gauntleted hand holding him in place. Elyan slicked his metal-clad member with a palmful of grease, and lined it up against Percival’s entrance. It was all he could do to hold back. “Ready?” he gasped.

“Do it,” Percival urged, and drew in a sharp breath as Elyan drove into him in a smooth thrust.

 

Afterwards, they lay curled together in the hay-pile behind the smithy, the stack of metal plates and pistons piled haphazardly before them. “Tell me.” Percival ran a pale hand down Elyan’s dark chest. “Why the invention? What is it for?”

“I just… didn’t want you to think I was weak. Beside the other knights, beside YOU, I’m no one. Weak, small… I wanted you to see me as powerful.” Elyan mumbled to the ground.

“My Elyan. Did you not know? You’ve always been perfect in my eyes.” Percival gathered him tightly in his arms. “My knight in shining armour.”

* * *

**06**

Merlin’s cries pierce the night as Arthur paces in front of the fire, hand on his scabbard, though he suspects the curse the gnarled Druid crone cast on them won’t be undone with steel. Even now he can’t decide what had shocked him more—the force of the spell when it hit or Merlin’s response, eyes glowing gold, as he thrust his hand forward in attempt to deflect it . . . too late. 

Merlin, Arthur’s hapless manservant, had somehow hid his magic for years. He had lied. And now he lies in his tent, a mortal curse upon him. 

In his breeches, Arthur’s cock is engorged, thickened at the base where a strange knot has already begun to swell. Even with the tent separating them, Arthur smells Merlin’s heat, a musky-dark scent that makes Arthur want to plunder and own. 

Merlin whimpers again, his need undeniably tempered with pain. It cuts through Arthur’s anger, blood running cold, then hot. He curses the Druid witch and the fact they’re out in the middle of nowhere, far away from any assistance, but another part of him, a secret, instinctual part, knows what he must do and, gods help him, wants.

He enters the tent. 

It’s so dark Arthur can barely make out Merlin’s form, but he hears the rustling bedding. 

“Arthur?” Merlin rasps. “It hurts.” 

“Can’t you do something?” 

“No . . . it’s too strong.” 

Arthur drops to his knees, cock throbbing when he discovers Merlin naked, knees drawn up to his chest with his hand between his thighs. The scent and the obscene slick-slick sound make Arthur’s mouth water. 

“Gods.” His own arousal grows so acute it feels as though he will be the one to die if his need is not slaked. Merlin’s eyes shimmer that same unearthly gold. 

“I . . . I’m sorry . . . please . . .” Merlin reaches out with one hand, grasping for Arthur, pulling at the ties of his breeches. When his fingers connect with bare skin, Arthur hisses. There’s no time to waste.

He tears at his clothing and is upon Merlin in an instant, cock already seeking the wet heat he craves. Merlin wraps his arms and legs around, crying out in agony. 

“It’s getting worse . . . gods. Just . . . hurry.” 

Arthur takes himself in hand and tries not to think too much about the odd swell at the base, how good it feels to squeeze . . . how much he wants to feed Merlin the whole thing. The first press of his cockhead into Merlin inflames him. Merlin is hot and wet like a woman, but tight . . . he slides another inch and Merlin arches off the furs, whether in pain or ecstasy Arthur doesn’t know. He almost doesn’t care. 

“More,” Merlin whispers, and Arthur responds with a full thrust, fucking in before withdrawing. Soon, his hips have gained a pounding rhythm beyond his control. His grunts mingle with Merlin’s sobs as the knot tries to force its way in on each plunge, mind racing with all he wants and fears. 

Merlin’s body opens, pulls him deeper, and Arthur’s eyes roll back in his head as the swell pushes inside. He swivels his hips, the urge to bite possessing him. As if sensing it, Merlin offers the white expanse of his throat. Arthur sucks a kiss there, adding teeth when he finally bottoms out, the knot tying them together as he starts to pulse.

His bollocks draw up tight, cock spurting thick and heavy in a climax that goes on and on, hips grinding. Despite the stretch, Merlin doesn’t seem to hurt any longer; he groans while Arthur spends, clinging and arching to let him in deep. The scent of their sex makes Arthur lightheaded. Somehow he knows he has always wanted this.

“You’re mine now,” Arthur says, mouthing the bruises on Merlin’s neck, still working his come inside with rolling hips. “Mine to fill.”

“Yours,” Merlin says, his eyes closed, head tipped back. Tendrils of pleasure wrap around his whole body as Merlin spills, hot as blood between them. 

“Only mine.” The words are lust-hoarse; he can’t muster anger, not when the wetness leaking between Merlin’s thighs is both of theirs and he’s on the precipice of another release.

“Yesss.” It’s both an answer and a hiss of pleasure.

What had the crone said? 

If this is the only way to unite Albion, so be it.

Finally, Arthur understands.

* * *

**07**

**Arthur in Wonderland**

From the window, Arthur watched the endless tide of kittens gambol inexorably onwards down the street, mewling and stumbling over each other, into walls, and running through the gutters. Every now and again, a luminous white unicorn pranced lightly through the furry mass of tiny bodies, somehow managing avoid stepping on any of them. A large hare flew in swooping circles through the sky, screaming.

Merlin crossed the room to join him on his bed or overstuffed chair -- he hadn't decided which it was yet, because it looked like a snoring tiger skin rug-cum-hammock. Snoring, really. Merlin was a warm, solid weight against Arthur's side, comforting and reassuringly real, but Arthur did his level best to avoid paying him too much mind in favour of watching the window, because at this point, Merlin looked and felt like nothing so much as a large, wet sea-creature with far too many sinuous arms that had rows of round suckers running down their lengths. One arm twined with delicate strength around his waist, another draped over his thigh, and even through his shirt and jeans, he could feel the suckers latch on and release his skin in a ripple of circular, open-mouthed kisses, and he shivered involuntarily, and reconsidered his decision to ignore Merlin.

"Sorry," Merlin murmured, and yet another tentacle stroked his neck softly. "I did tell you to avoid that crack on the road. I think there must be more of Morgana's magical traps than real cracks in the city now. If I could just find out how she's setting and powering them..." He sighed, and the tentacle began to suck hickeys into Arthur's collarbone as it crept down the neck of his shirt.

Arthur debated with himself whether he should push Merlin away or take his shirt off to feel it better. Oblivious to the activities of his errant arms, Merlin sighed and the tentacle on his thigh edged up his leg. Arthur hissed, and discreetly spread his legs a little wider to give it more room to work. "Mm-hmm," he answered, non-committal and hoping he sounded bored and uninterested in the lecture rather than on the verge of moaning.

The tentacle on his thigh was nearly at his crotch now. Arthur wondered if it would be too obvious if he unzipped his jeans. His toes curled as Merlin patted the woefully constricted bulge in his excessively tight jeans, oh, the price of vanity. "At least the effects should have worn off in another eight or so hours. What are you seeing now?"

He could tell the truth. He could make up something plausible-sounding and not completely insane. He could beg off the cursework-analysis and try to sleep it off. Or he could tell Merlin to forget the curse and concentrate on initiating him into the joys of apparent tentacle sex, even if he wasn't sure what Merlin was getting out of it. It might be completely innocent touches that the curse was making him interpret as this tentative molestation.

"You're an octopus, fuck!" was what he blurted when the tentacle on his crotch attempted to suck his cock out through the jeans, and then he whimpered.

"What?" Merlin startled, and all his arms fell away from Arthur, and Arthur was really, really sorry about that.   
"I, what do you mean?" 

"I can't stand this anymore, I really need to take my clothes off," he said a little desperately, and started struggling with the buttons on his shirt. "Come on, help me," he prompted as Merlin stared at him and squirmed in confusion. He ripped the shirt off and flung it away, and then there were his jeans. He got them open and lifted his hips to get them down far enough to wriggle out completely, and he covered his freed cock with his hands and moaned in relief, while Merlin turned several colours in quick succession, red and blue and gold and red. "There are kittens everywhere outside, and unicorns, and you're an octopus and you've been groping me all evening," Arthur gasped out, trying to refrain from wanking right in front of Merlin and coming on his face.

"I'm sorry! I didn't..." Merlin had frozen in place, unable to take his eyes off Arthur's hands, but two sly tentacles had returned to hold Arthur's ankles gently. Arthur grinned.

"Don't be sorry, just stop teasing," he told Merlin, grabbed two flailing tentacles, and pulled Merlin on top of him.

* * *

**08**

The cave's damp, not deep enough to offer adequate protection, but Merlin can barely walk, is greying about the eyes already, and they're still days from Camelot.

Arthur hefts Merlin inside and lowers him against the wall, takes in the trembling of his limbs and wastes no time going for the supplies they salvaged after the attack, letting the bag drop to the floor.

“What was she?” he asks a second time, pulling hard at straps, hoping for a blanket – water.

Merlin waits a beat without answering, then another, and Arthur turns his head sharply.

“Merlin.”

“She was a succubus.” It comes out quick - flat, and Merlin avoids eye contact for a moment before looking up, brows pulled into a frown.

It's no surprise. Not after having felt her pull, nor after hearing what she'd said before destroying their camp and sending their horses flying across the clearing, but Arthur's blood chills at the confirmation. He knows these creatures – grew up with stories of how they lure boys from their beds, make them into slaves with whispered promises, open legs and wet heat between.

“And what she said -” He doesn't drop Merlin's gaze, stares hard at him as if that will make this easier. “That was true? If you don't – That was true?”

Merlin just looks at him, says - “You know it was” - ashamed almost, and he's somehow got enough color to flush.

Arthur swallows, nods, goes back to the bag of supplies and grips at the phials clinking at the bottom, fishes them out and lines them along the stone.

“She'd have taken you if I hadn't done something,” Merlin goes on, insistent. “She'd have put you under and I wouldn't have been able -”

“Okay.” The bag's empty now. Arthur thinks about folding it up before wondering what the hell's wrong with him – gets to his feet instead and reaches for his sword belt, tugging at the leather until it comes loose.

Merlin's voice is uncertain when he asks what Arthur's doing. He tries to sit up more fully when Arthur lets one vambrace clatter to the floor.

“Arthur, what -”

“I'm not going to let you die,” Arthur says, brusque but oddly matter-of-fact. He clenches his jaw, stares at Merlin again as if daring him to protest, but doesn't honestly know what he'll do if Merlin does. He can't just -

Merlin doesn't seem to know what to say to that. He flushes again and looks away, back at Arthur and then at the ceiling. “You don't have to -”

“I'm not going to let you die, Merlin.” The second vambrace joins the first, but he can't reach to undo the straps in the back, struggles with them before giving up and going for his boots instead. “You'll have to help me,” he says, still terse.

“God.” Merlin brings his hands up and buries his face in them.

Arthur turns away again, just keeps getting out of the clothes he's able to until Merlin shifts, tries getting to his feet.

“Stop,” he says, half lifted off the ground. “Stop, Arthur. You don't -”

“I won't hurt you,” Arthur blurts out. It comes out higher than he'd like. “I swear it, Merlin – I won't. But if we don't -”

“That's not what I mean.” Merlin hobbles forward, reaches for the straps Arthur abandoned. “You can - use your hands.,” he says quietly. “You don't have to -” He's intent on the armor, fingers working over the buckles clumsier than usual. “As long as it's you – some part of you, then it should -”

“What are you talking about?”

Merlin pauses with hands atop Arthur's gorget. “I mean you can use your fingers.” He swallows. “You can – If you get off on your own - in your own hand - you can press it in with your fingers instead of -”

And - _oh_.

That's how Merlin ends up on his back with Arthur in front of him, fingers sticky with come and oil buried between his thighs.

He tries not to notice when Merlin lets out little gasps as Arthur pushes his seed into him, tries to ignore the way he goes half-hard, then entirely so, cock straining towards his belly.

He tries to ignore his own prick when it starts to take interest again, uncomfortable in the trousers he didn't bother to remove.

Tries to ignore all of it, really, but Merlin's hot around him, pink in the face, and before Arthur even has the chance to ask him how long this should go on, Merlin's coming with an embarrassed apology, breathing noticeably eased.

* * *

**09**

_"You must lie with him, give him your seed often, or else he will die.”_

Arthur moves slowly. He wants to be careful of startling the boy too soon, but it’s difficult to restrain himself. Seeing the boy like this, young and beautiful and kneeling for his pleasure, it makes his cock grow hot and hard with desire that feels forbidden.

He is so young. 16 _maybe_ , and half Arthur’s age. That, more than anything, makes him want to protest. He doesn’t. Instead he lets his desire drive him down to his own knees, where he presses two fingers beneath the boy’s chin. He lets his thumb swipe over succulent lips for a moment, before he tilts his face up. There’s still spirit in the boy’s dark eyes, flaring like a guttering flame amidst a drugged blackness. It calls out to him, urges him to conquer, and he _wants_ to.

"What's your name?"

Dark lashes fan across high cheekbones as the boy blinks slowly, seems to struggle with words too heavy for his tongue.

“Merlin,” he finally whispers, the sound of his voice shooting a tendril of spiky pleasure straight under Arthur’s skin.

He nods shakily, tries the name out and finds he likes the taste of it, that he wants more.

As King, he has never been one for denying himself.

As Arthur slowly lowers him to the floor, Merlin’s thin chest heaves with drugged desire, and a layer of sweat makes his skin glisten. His plump lips are what truly catch Arthur's attention though, and he wastes no time in plundering them, sticking his tongue into Merlin's mouth and taking everything he can, feeding the beast that lurks inside of him. Not satisfying it though, never that.

He begins his exploration slowly, first with lips, and then with hands quickly diverted to the task of freeing them both of their clothes. He shivers when Merlin is finally laid bare before him. He’s perfect, sprawled there in the dust. His dark hair is mussed, and his lips are kiss swollen. A flush has swept across his fair skin, starting high in his cheeks and ending in a long slender cock that looks painfully hard where it twitches against a belly still soft and rounded with youth.

Arthur’s eyes hungrily rove lower, and then he flushes with surprised rage.

The shimmer of oil already between Merlin's thighs has every primal instinct inside of him screaming _"mine"_ until he is breathless with the desire to erase every touch that has come before his.

Merlin gasps when Arthur slides two fingers unerringly inside him, then goes rigid when Arthur crooks them cruelly.

His fingers come away sloppy-wet when he withdraws them a moment later, so he quickly adds a third, then growls when it slots easily inside as well. "No one else will ever touch you like this,” he warns. “Only my flesh will go here now, only my seed will fill you up, give you what you _need_."

Merlin nods frantically up at him, agreeing maybe, or else he’s simply too addled with want of pleasure.

“Shhh,” Arthur soothes. His fingers are still inside the boy, moving in hard jabbing motions now, because Merlin feels good inside, good enough that he knows he needs to calm a bit, before continuing. He wants this to last, but he’s afraid it will be too good to.

So he slows, takes a deep breath, and folds the boy in half to look at him. Oil bubbles around his fingers, and the the boy’s rim is red and swollen...and just like that, all his resistance disintegrates.

Merlin cries out as Arthur roughly withdraws his fingers and, without a pause, begins feeding his cock into the gaping space left behind.

"Mine," he growls as he takes up a steady thrust, one hand bracing himself. His other hand searches out Merlin’s cock, wet and weeping between them. He moves his fist with the brutal strokes he uses on himself, but it’s clearly too much for the boy, because he flinches, and clenches his tight little hole down on Arthur like a vice.

After that, he only manages to jerk his hips twice more, before his balls are tightening with pleasure and his seed furls out and into where it is needed.

When it’s over and they are both panting harshly into the night, only the scents of ozone and destiny continue to linger.

* * *

**10**

”If the world ends before you’ve let me come, I swear I will fucking kill you!”

Arthur smirked from between his legs.

”No, you won’t, because everyone’ll be dead. That’s the point of the world ending, _Merlin_.”

”I’ll find a way.”

”Shut up and let me do this. I promise it’ll be nice.”

Before Merlin could say another word, Arthur’s lips closed around the head of his cock, and Arthur sucked at it teasingly.

Merlin groaned.

It was not the ideal place to be spending what would probably be the last night of their lives. Of everyone’s lives, to be honest. It was the smallest hotel Merlin had ever seen, and probably the cheapest one Arthur had ever been to, but it would do for one night and serve its purpose.

The purpose was to forget the world for a while, finally resolve the unresolved sexual tension and fuck until neither of them could see straight.

Merlin had been on the edge and ready for release from the moment they had scrambled into the room ripping clothes off and fallen on the bed, but Arthur had other plans. He insisted that as nice as it would be to come several times during the night, they should take it slower and enjoy it.

It was bollocks, really, and Merlin was ready to rip Arthur’s head off to finally get him to suck him dry, fuck his brains out, pull his orgasm out with a hand or, fucking hell, _anything_ would be fine by now!

Merlin felt lubed fingers circling his arsehole.

”Just, please. _Fuck_. Stop _teasing_!”

”We have hours till the hit, Merlin.”

”Well, that’s fine with me, because it means I have time to kill you slowly... Fuck! Yes! There!”

The fingers were pushed into his hole, and he lost the track of his thoughts. Arthur was sucking him and fucking him with fingers, but it was not quite enough.

Only when Arthur raised his head and threw some condoms on the bed, Merlin took notice again.

”Condoms? Really?” Merlin said disbelievingly.

“Protection, Merlin. Ever heard of it? They tell me it’s important.”

“Are you kidding me? We’re going to be dead in a couple of hours, and I’m not going to have the last fuck of my life with a rubber between us! I’m clean if you’re worried about that, and whatever diseases you have, I’m just going to live with them _if_ I’m still alive tomorrow!”

Arthur blinked, blushed and threw the condoms on the floor.

“Just a suggestion,” he muttered and climbed on top of Merlin.

“A stupid one. Now come here and fuck me already.”

Arthur pushed him on the bed and kissed him like his life depended on it.

Merlin could certainly name better shags in his life, but he could blame his thoughts being all over the place during it. In university it had been easy to just have a shag without thinking anything more than the size of the cocks and the amount of alcohol they had consumed; now he was thinking about the end of the world, never again seeing the people he loved most, and that he had possibly found the one person with whom he wanted to spend every remaining minute of his life. 

Afterwards they climbed on the roof, still naked, and watched the sky above them. It was mocking them with thousands of stars and warm glow in the east that had nothing to do with the sun rising and everything to do with the asteroid about to hit in the middle of Siberia before the night was over.

“I didn’t expect it to end like this,” Merlin muttered, staring at the sky.

“Me neither,” Arthur whispered, and then, “If we die tonight, what will be your greatest regret?”

Merlin turned on his side to look at him.

“Not spending enough time with the people I love. What’s yours?”

Arthur looked at the sky and pulled Merlin closer to him, awakening the interest of their cocks again.

“Not sure if I have any regrets left now,” he said and glanced at Merlin. He took Merlin’s hand and licked at the wrist, making Merlin shudder.

Closer to the morning, after a night filled with sex and mutual comfort, when the light in the east was getting stronger, Arthur kissed Merlin on the lips and whispered,

“I’m glad you’re with me.”

Merlin did not have to words so he just answered the kiss and hoped it was enough.

They waited.

* * *

**11**

Arthur wakes to a bomb slamming the earth. The room lights in a blinding red flash. Morgana’s a silhouette of wild hair hovering by his bed.

“What is it?” he asks once his ears stop ringing.

“I’m scared, Arthur.” She’s trembling, stumbling towards him. She looks nothing like his brave older sister who has stood strong through the horrors of the last few months, kept him sane while he waits impatiently to be old enough to join fight. 

He shifts over and offers her a spot on his bed; it’s freezing in this dank cellar. Just one more reason to hate this safehouse. “Father’ll be back soon. It’ll be okay.” He brushes the curls from her face. His confidence shatters when he feels the wetness of her cheeks. Morgana hasn’t cried in years.

“It won’t be.” Her eyes are wild. They glow red in the light of another explosion. “I had a dream. Arthur, it’s the end of the world.”

She pulls him forward, crushing their chests together and the lace of her nightie scratches his bare nipples. His belly squirms at the contact. He tries to put some distance between them, but she’s hysterical, clinging to him like she never has before.

“It’s just a dream,” he lies. They both know better -- when Morgana dreams, it happens -- but he can’t bear to think of that now and there’s nothing else to say. He repeats, “It’s just a dream.” He lifts the covers. She tucks in beside him like they did when they were kids and their father was gone for weeks _on army business_ , before they both got too old to hold each other through the night.

She seems soothed by the familiarity of it. Arthur breathes a sigh of relief and tries to get comfortable next to her on the narrow mattress. They’re much bigger now. Arthur shoulders have broadened and Morgana’s suddenly all soft curves. He’s at a loss where to put his hands, before deciding it doesn’t matter. Nothing matters any longer; they both need the comfort. Morgana’s draped over him, her satin-covered chest pressed against his, and their bare legs tangled together. Arthur rubs her back until her breathing calms. Her eyes flutter shut.

His mind races, needing to know what she dreamt. He stares at her, heart aching at the tension in every shadow on his sister’s face. A year ago she’d been laughing, carefree and full of life, as they’d raced their mares across the Pendragon lands. A year ago they’d lived in a world sheltered from the war.

Her eyes snap open. “It’s coming.” She looks manic, staring into nothingness. It’s like this sometimes after a dream where she needs grounding to bring her back to the present.

He presses his forehead to hers and whispers, “We’re together, Morgana. Here. Now.” He twists their fingers together -- another childhood intimacy long forgotten. “Let it end, I say.” He sounds much braver, much older than he feels.

She laughs, and he’s so relieved to see the clarity in her eyes that he laughs too and kisses her cheek.

Looking at him, her eyes soften. “Together,” she whispers and presses her lips to his.

When she pulls back Arthur swallows thickly, licking lips that taste of his sister’s mouth. His breathing’s gone funny. His body's flushed, heat swirling in his groin in a way that it shouldn’t as he thinks upon every place their bodies touch. His cock, trapped in only y-fronts, is pressing against Morgana’s inner thigh. He feels the heat of her and he squeezes his eyes shut not to roll his hips.

“I’m tired of being scared,” she breathes and kisses him again. This time it’s soft, wet, growing more urgent with each heartbeat.

He’s not sure who moves first. It’s instinct and desperation positioning them, certainly not thought. She spreads her legs and he kneels between them. They yank at his pants until they’re pulled taut at his thighs, the waistband ripping. He falls to his elbows, panting into her shoulder, trying to find his control. He’s lost though once his hips jerk forward and his cock slides against her wet mound.

She whimpers, her nails scratching his back.

The lights of an explosion fill the room again, and Arthur thrusts in, frantic and inexperienced, overwhelmed by the heat and the slick softness he finds between Morgana’s legs. They cling to each other, trembling like children.

They are all they have left. So let it end like this.

* * *

**12**

"What the hell kind of sacrifice is that?" Merlin had asked. He’d looked furious, as though there’d been something he could do about it, but their sheer numbers, the toxic black orbs that spun between their palms, shut him up soon enough. 

"I suppose it's…lucky, that its interpretation of virginity is so loose," Arthur had muttered, shucking his clothing quickly. And that one of them was eligible. The look on Merlin's face when they’d realized…well. He hadn't known people could turn that red. 

"There's got to be another way," Merlin had insisted. 

Arthur wasn't _stung_ , that was ridiculous, and he hadn't meant to snap. He did anyway. "Yes, I'm sorry it's so unthinkable, when refusing will only cost us our _lives_." The inky spheres in the sorcerers' hands had shot through with blue sparks and that had settled that. 

Arthur hissed as his belly touched the flat stone. "It's cold," he said, embracing the indignation. It trumped the mortification he felt, bent like this, exposed. He did’t know what was worse, the twenty strangers, watching, or Merlin behind him, tightening the short chains that spread his legs far apart. His breath puffed against Arthur’s thigh. The leather cuffs on his ankles and wrists were soft and worn. Clearly used many, many times before. He wondered how often they scrubbed down this altar.

Merlin's hands were at his stomach--they were starting already, _God_ \--but Merlin was only sliding his shirt under Arthur's belly, saying, “Lift up.” The thin cloth was warm between his skin and the cool stone. “Better?” Merlin murmured.

“Just, let’s just start,” was all Arthur could say. 

Merlin's hands never left him, after that. One hand jacked him slowly, first. “Easier to relax,” Merlin had said, like asking permission, and Arthur could only nod sharply, trying not to breathe. 

One, two, three fingers in him, stretching him until he was shuddering with it, both of them terribly silent, the sorcerers shifting impatiently but holding their peace until finally, finally, Merlin said, “You’re ready,” and Arthur couldn’t contradict him. He’d felt ready for ages. He was so glad Merlin was behind him, couldn’t see his cock dripping and desperate, though at least ten other people in the room could.

Two hands holding him down as Merlin took him. They were brands on his body as Merlin pressed just the head of his cock in. It was too much. He pressed back, lip nearly bleeding as he bit down with the effort, until Merlin gave him more.

Arthur knew then, with terrible certainty, that he would never forget this. He’d remember every day of his life exactly what this was like, and know every day that he’d never have it again. It overcame him without warning. The pleasure of Merlin's cock splitting him open too, too slowly; the shame of being bent over and stripped raw by this man in front of watching strangers; the knowledge that he'd walk away from this, after, like it’d never happened. IAll his defenses were falling and he felt it all, now, and cried out. 

Merlin's hips stuttered, almost stilled. His breath came fast. "Arthur," he said. " _Arthur_ ," almost the voice of a lover, if Arthur listened just right, and then Merlin's hands slid from his hips, up, up, and his fingers spanned the side of Arthur's throat. "Tell me you--that you really--"

"Yes," Arthur ground out. There was no point, not here, with everything else laid out bare. 

Merlin whimpered, really _whimpered_ , and then he was right there--there was the shock of miles of skin upon skin, Merlin's belly laid out all across Arthur's back, intimate like even his cock _inside_ him hadn't been. 

"God, yes," Merlin breathed. "You're so--" He pressed his mouth to the back of Arthur's neck and whispered, "You should see yourself. Seeing you need this," and with that he screwed his cock in deeper, until Arthur couldn't keep his moans in. He heard mutters, and groaned. Merlin thumbed Arthur's pulse. "I hate that these people can see you too, I wish I didn't have to share this. I want you all to myself, that's all I want." He drove into Arthur furiously then, his warmth all along Arthur’s back until he hit a bright spot within Arthur and everything went bright, bright, bright.

* * *

**13**

Arthur is too late. Merlin’s already on the ground when he get there, one hand still on his gun, the other one clutching the fresh bite marks in his side. He’s smiling, despite everything, and Arthur’s heart twists at the sight.

“I got them!” Merlin nods at the twitching, decayed remains of the zombies. “It’s okay. I got them. We’re safe for now –” he grimaces, clutching his side.

Arthur sinks down next to him, hands shaking, and tries to get a better look – maybe it isn’t a bite after all, maybe it was just a stray bullet – 

“Don’t.” Merlin bats him away.. “Don’t look. We should – just get this over with.”

He’s so calm, the set of his face so determined, despite the flicker of fear in his gaze, that Arthur can’t bear to look at him. He pulls Merlin into his arms, buries his face in his neck – his skin’s already going cold – and says,

“You _idiot_ , you should have got help, what were you _thinking_ –”

“There wasn’t time,” Merlin’s voice is hoarse, shaky. “They cornered me. I’m sorry.” His arm wraps around Arthur, stroking his back as if trying to comfort.

Arthur knows what has to be done, but he can’t face it just yet. He doesn’t want to let go of Merlin yet, doesn’t want to give up on him – he wants to hold him, to keep him safe, and he’s suddenly overcome with _need_ , need to have Merlin now, before he’s consumed.

He kisses Merlin, one hand on the back of his neck, and at first Merlin kisses back,, shuddering, but then when Arthur deepens it, touching him – everywhere, he wants to touch him everywhere – Merlin pulls back, surprised.

“What,” he says, “no, we can’t – Arthur –”

“Please, one last time.” Arthur _wants_.

“You might get infected.” Merlin’s still holding his gun.

“Don’t care,” says Arthur. “Want you. _Please_.”

Merlin hesitates, then kisses back, clutching at him. He whimpers when Arthur’s lips press against his neck and Arthur’s not sure if it’s pleasure or pain until he says, “Don’t stop.”

Arthur pushes Merlin to the ground, gentle – his heart is pounding already, it _aches_ he wants so badly – and starts pulling up the remains of his shirt. He runs a hand down Merlin’s side, where he used to be ticklish, but Merlin doesn’t squirm, just sighs.

When Arthur palms Merlin’s crotch his whole body spasms. “Oh god – it’s starting, I can feel it.” He might be in pain, Arthur’s not sure, but he pushes up against Arthur’s hand, so Arthur tugs his jeans open and reaches a hand inside to touch.

Merlin writhes, and Arthur grinds down against him, desperate. There’s a heat under his skin, his whole body sparking with it, and Merlin is hot and wet and alive beneath him despite everything. Merlin’s blood is spilling onto his skin. The sensation is like a sick punch in the gut but still he can’t stop.

Gunshots somewhere in the distance. Merlin isn’t talking any more, just groaning, but he’s pushing up against Arthur, hands clutching at his shoulders, head fallen back against the ground. 

“Look at me,” Arthur pants, taking Merlin’s face in his hands. “Oh god, _look at me_.” His eyes are still blue, but hazy with something that’s either fear or arousal. He yells, body spasming again, and the feel of it sets Arthur gasping.

He sets the balls of his feet firm against the ground, and pushes, _pushes_ against Merlin until he feels him come, moaning the way he always does, and then he goes limp, so still that Arthur thinks it must be over. He reaches for his gun.

As he touches it, Merlin shifts, eyes opening, and he looks up at Arthur, alert and alive. “Hi.”

Arthur swallows. “You okay?” He can’t keep his voice from shaking.

Merlin nods, then spasms again, clutching at his side. When he stops shaking his eyes are closed and he’s murmuring something that might be a prayer. They don’t have much time. Oh god, they’ve got no time at all.

He steels himself. He takes a breath, then another, and presses the barrel of the gun against Merlin’s head. Merlin starts, opens his eyes, looks up at Arthur, something unreadable in his gaze. 

“I love you.” Arthur tries to keep his voice steady, then, “I’m sorry.” Merlin doesn’t answer. “Are you ready?”

Merlin nods, just once, then takes a breath and closes his eyes. Arthur turns away before he pulls the trigger.

* * *

**14**

The jeering and yelling was almost deaf around them as the settled in the musty pile of old blankets. Merlin spared a thought and a shuddered at the knowledge that these might have been _used_ before them. But then he caught Gwen’s eye and his mind tumbled back to the matter at hand. 

It was beyond cruel, what they were made to do. And all because Arthur had been too busy following the stupid boar or deer or whatever he’d seen that had him so damned focused. _No, stop it Merlin. You can’t blame this one on Arthur. This is your own fault and you know it._

Ignoring the leers come at him from all sides Merlin crawled closer to the shivering Gwen and tried to give her a supportive smile. He was afraid it came out as more of a wince. 

“Come on boy, whatcha waiting for? She’s not gonna stay _fresh_ all day.” The man directed a nasty grin at her that had her trembling and curling in closer to Merlin. Merlin glared at him and, with a heavy feeling in his stomach, undid his laces to reveal his flaccid cock. He gave himself a few harsh strokes and tried to think of another place, another time. 

“I’m sorry,” Merlin whispered, holding Gwen to his chest. There was no tactful way of lifting her shirts surrounded by these _men_ , though he tried to be as gentle as possible. All the while Gwen looked like she was holding back tears. 

Merlin ran a hand through her hair as he entered her. “Shh, shh. I’m sorry. M’sorry Gwen.”

He was ashamed to find that with every thrust it got easier and easier to forget the crowd of men around them. He could feel his cock harden as it slipped in an out of Gwen, her wet walls clinging to him. Merlin bit his lip to hold back the moan he could feel coming forth. He buried his head in Gwen’s neck muttering apologies between his heavy breathing.

“Sorry, Gwen. So sorry. Never meant – Not like this. Not like this.”

As he was getting close to spilling, he felt a small hand clutch itself into his hair. Gwen’s other hand moved from where it had been grasping onto his arm to clawing at his back. Her hips shifted up into him, no longer limp and submissive. And then she was whispering in his ear, telling him it was okay and “Merlin. Merlin. I’ve got you. It’s okay. Merlin.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes closed and bit his lip so hard it almost bled. And with Gwen’s voice in his ear and her hands on his body, he came.

XXXXX

They are huddled together in a small cell, Gwen curled up in Merlin’s lap. Their clothes have long since been traded out for the rags they wear now. They’re barely enough to cover Gwen, though Merlin tried to give her as much fabric as he can spare without freezing. 

Though they had both been in a light doze for the past few hours they startle at the sound of voices and clanging outside their cell. Merlin tenses and Gwen starts to tremble, both of them awaiting the inevitable opening of the cell door and wondering what deplorable acts they’ll be made to do this time. Merlin just prays that this won’t be the day that their captors insist anyone else touches Gwen. 

The door rattles and Gwen’s fingers tighten in Merlin’s raggedy shirt. Merlin clenches his fists, ready to fight them as he has so many times before—even though he knows it’s no use and always, always ends up beaten to the ground and made submissive once more. 

Then the door is banging open to revel a blond head and silver armor and the relief is so overpowering it makes tears come to his eyes. They’re already streaming down Gwen’s face as she rushes off the dirty floor and into her husband’s arms. Arthur catches her and holds her close, kissing her and whispering his love into her hair. 

Merlin gets up as well, much slower and walks up beside them. “Took you long enough,” he tries to joke. Arthur just looks at him, a shimmer of tears in his eyes and brings out an arm to pull Merlin in to join their hug.

* * *

**15**

“Need to tell you something,” Arthur whispers into the crook of Merlin’s neck. He noses through damp hair, seeking out the tiny freckle constellation he’s coveted, and licking it. The roar outside is deafening, but in this intense pocket around them, Arthur knows Merlin hears him.

“Oh?” Merlin rasps.

“Might not get another chance,” Arthur pants. Merlin’s fingers talon into his hair and Arthur’s hips stutter. “Jesus Christ, don’tmove _don’tmove_ fuckinghell,” he chants into Merlin’s neck, sprung so tightly with his almost-orgasm, it feels like he’s clutching the edge of a cliff with splayed claws, bowed and prickly like an angry cat. Merlin stills beneath him.

Arthur lifts up on his elbows to look at dark eyes and the mouth he knows the shape of by heart. He begins to slowly flex his hips again, relishing the flutter of lashes as Merlin’s eyes roll back. “I know we agreed to fuck since we’re about to die, but that’s not my only reason.”

“What?” Merlin blinks, looking to the storefront window, as if he’s checking they’re still on the dirty floor of Gaius’ antique shop. Beyond the bullet-proof window—which seemed excessively pricey once—the sea of London’s zombiefied citizens continues to moan and pound its desperate brainlust into the barrier. On the floor, two of Gaius’ beautiful antique bayonets lie side by side like wax seals over their it’s-better-to-bleed-out-than-be-eaten-alive-by-a-screaming-horde pact.

“I really want this. You. I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

“Oh my God,” Merlin whines,” NOW? _NOW_ you tell me this, you absolute bloody—oh _good God_ ,” he moans, and Arthur smiles, nibbling at Merlin’s earlobe, working himself deep and tight between Merlin’s thighs.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he continues, kissing Merlin’s throat, knowing he can’t hold back this time. “Watched you, wanted to murder Will in his sleep that time he got maggoted and kissed you. I _hated_ him, even though I knew you weren’t together.” He doesn’t add, _and now he’s dead, so there, Will, SO THERE_. Might be the end of the world, but no need to be an arsehole about it.

Merlin laughs with a giddy little sigh, which Arthur knows he will emboss into his arm with the tip of Gaius’ bayonet when time’s up.

“Can’t believe you didn’t say anything,” Merlin whispers, tightening his arms around Arthur’s ribs, scratching his nape with needy fingers. He pulls at Arthur’s hair until they’re eye to eye. “I would’ve stabbed old ladies and drowned bagfuls of kittens to get in your pants.”

Arthur tuts. They grin at each other like idiots until the smiles succumb to bliss. Arthur lowers to the crook of Merlin’s neck where his scent is strongest and breathes it in so fast his head spins with it. With a handful of Merlin’s arse, he drives himself in _again_ and _again_ , skin slapping.

He drowns out anything other than perfect friction and the hot suck of Merlin’s body, right there on the filthy shop floor where they’ve lived for over two weeks. They’re starving, having run out of Gaius’ baked beans and kippers three days ago, waiting in vain for someone to rescue them. For the world to make sense again.

Levering himself up on one elbow, Arthur reaches down between them and sneaks his fingers over Merlin’s reedy torso to his cock, wanting to watch, then follow, together this once.

He pistons his hips into Merlin’s tight, slick arse, stripping him fast and hard. Merlin’s fingers dig trenches in Arthur’s back and he flexes, open-mouthed, coming. And then, Arthur follows, careening off the edge of his orgasm thinking WHAT THE FUCK, because Merlin’s eyes are _glowing like fireflies_ and Arthur can’t-

What.

Moments later, Merlin notices Arthur’s absolute stillness and the shock on his face.

“Arthur?”

Arthur blinks, then turns to the window. Merlin looks too, noticing the deafening silence. Outside, all the zombies are lying down quietly like a putrid carpet, though a couple stumble into view in the far distance.

Arthur frowns. “Did you--?”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes went gold. The zombies are dead. What.”

“Oh.” Merlin swallows. “I’m magic.”

The cogs in Arthur’s brain whirr to life.

“Could you’ve killed’em all before?”

“Tried. Nothing worked. They’re magic, too.”

“So... Maybe?” Arthur points to where they’re still joined, Arthur’s cock still pulsing.

Merlin’s eyebrows shoot up. “You think?”

“It’s the only thing that’s different.” Arthur frowns. “Maybe if you just wank—“

“Did yesterday. Nothing changed.”

Arthur grins, speculative.

Merlin rolls his eyes and facepalms.

Arthur is going be insufferable.”

* * *

**16**

**THE RESTAURANT AT THE END OF THE UNIVERSE  
IS CLOSED FOR A PRIVATE PARTY  
WE APOLOGIZE FOR THE INCONVENIENCE**

"Unh." Merlin sprawled on his back on the eighty-yard-long marble bar. "Oh, UNH."

Gwaine knelt on a bar stool between Merlin's splayed thighs, clad only in his red cloak. From Arthur's viewpoint, the embroidered dragon looked like it was dancing as Gwaine pumped into Merlin's arse.

_The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy defines the Orgy at the End of the Universe as a raucous gangbang orchestrated by the legendary wizard Merlin, taking place at Milliways, the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. This event is the only time the Restaurant has been closed for a private event (made possible due to the quasi-fictional nature of the participants, which rendered a substream of—oh, fuck it, you lot just want to hear about the shagging)._

Over in the dining room, Leon perched on the edge of a large table while Elyan, seated in a high-backed chair, went down on him like cock was his last meal. Which, given the circumstances, Arthur supposed it might as well be.

Leon started to moan, and the place settings rattled. 

Merlin craned his neck up from the bar. "No orgasms!" he panted in time with Gwaine's thrusts. "Everyone has to come inside me. Er, for the magic to happen."

Arthur raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his hauberk.

_One day the famous sorcerer went before the court of Camelot and informed the King of a prophecy that the universe would come to a premature, abrupt, and rather messy end if they did not travel to the actual End of the Universe to enact a complicated magical ritual. The ritual involved the wizard himself getting bonked repeatedly by King Arthur and his trusty men._

An intimate table for two managed to serve for three. Merlin bent over it, sucking Percival's cock while Lancelot buggered him from behind. The crystal goblets on the table had long since shattered on the floor to the grumbling of the wait staff. 

Percival hollered as he came, shooting in and all over Merlin. Merlin grabbed a napkin to wipe his face, but soon dropped it in favour of clutching the tablecloth as Lancelot fucked him harder.

Arthur gave up his stoicism and opened his breeches. He had just gotten his cock into his hand when a wizened green waiter appeared at his elbow and startled him with a polite little waiter's cough. 

"Would sir care for some lubricant to ease sir's masturbation?"

"Er," Arthur said, nonplussed, looking at the little dish on the silver tray, filled with a silky-looking liquid.

"Better bring it here." Merlin sat up on the table and grinned at Arthur. His swollen cock bobbed cheerfully between his legs while the flecks of spunk in his hair glowed turquoise under the chandelier. "Come along, Arthur. Can't happen without the Once and Future King."

"Someday you're going to tell me what the fuck that actually means," Arthur grumbled as he stripped off the rest of his armor.

_Because of the quasi-fictional (and magical) nature of the event, nobody has been able to determine the cosmological validity of the ritual. Some chroniclers of the time opined that Merlin made the whole thing up just to get himself a sexy holiday. The wizard was heard to retort, "Stuff it, Geoffrey, you're just bitter you weren't invited."_

Arthur had Merlin pressed up against one of the windows. Together they watched the terrifying sky of the dying universe as Arthur fucked deep.

"Are you sure this is all really necessary?" Arthur ground into Merlin, swivelling his hips to catch all the spots that Merlin loved.

Merlin gasped and rubbed his body against the glass. "Of course. Look at it out there."

Arthur's balls tightened and he jabbed harder into Merlin's soft arse. "I dunno," he grunted. "The staff don't look very concerned."

"It's their overwhelming confidence in your virility, sire." Merlin groaned and painted the window with his come.

Arthur spent himself into Merlin a second later—just as the universe ended. 

It ended again while they had cocktails and then again while they were all too busy fucking to notice.

_Regardless of the practical benefit of the orgy in terms of the fate of the universe, it is widely agreed that everyone involved had a smashing good time. The clean-up bill and bar tab have been billed to each of King Arthur's successive reincarnations, but have yet to be paid._

* * *

**17**

“You have your prat face on.” Merlin grumbled as he finished preparations for the ritual.

“Why does it have to be me again?” Arthur asked.

Merlin sighed and turned to his King. “Because it has to be someone I submit to, someone that can control me. Only you can do that.”

Arthur’s face softened a little, but he still had to ask. “If we don’t do this-- . Morgana will be able to overpower you and destroy the world right?”

Merlin gave him a withering look. “We’ve already been over this a hundred times. I need all my power to keep everyone safe and this is the only way to get it. The only way to ensure your destiny happens.”

Arthur felt like he was having a panic attack.

“Is the idea of touching me really so terrible?” Merlin asked in annoyance.

Arthur’s muscles seized, his heart jumping to his throat. “No.”

Merlin stepped forward and Arthur had to fight the urge to step away. Merlin’s arms encircled his neck and he dropped his head to Arthur’s shoulder. “I’m already yours, I’ve been yours for so long. Please--”

“--Please take me.”

That was it. After years of tiptoeing a fine line between them, of never touching Merlin because he didn’t trust his self-control, he was going to give them what they had yearned for.

 _“Merlin.”_ Arthur whispered in reverence. He gently brought a hand under Merlin’s chin and tilted it up for a soul-shattering kiss. 

His veins flooded with need, and his fingertips burned with the desire to touch. Merlin’s entire body shivered and twitched as Arthur gripped his hips and slowly caressed his sides.

Needing more skin, needing to see him, Arthur shed his clothes before helping Merlin do the same. He was gorgeous; all lean lines and sinewy muscles that rippled under Arthur’s touch. A line of dark hair began just under his navel and continued further south, drawing Arthur’s eyes to Merlin’s hard and leaking cock.

He heard Merlin clear his throat and looked up to see the man’s face covered in a deep blush that traveled down his neck and spread out beautifully over his chest. Arthur longed to chase the redness with his lips and pulled Merlin flush to him; both men groaning at the overwhelming sensation of being skin-on-skin.

Arthur kissed him slowly, taking the time to explore Merlin’s mouth with his tongue as they dropped to their knees. He tried to push Merlin back, but the other man pulled away and shook his head.

“I need to be on top for the ritual.” Merlin explained and Arthur’s eyes went wide. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

Merlin chuckled then leaned in close to whisper, “Not like that you cabbagehead, I’m going to ride you.” 

Arthur moaned at the image, and felt heat coil in his belly. He let Merlin push him back onto the blanket and held his breath as Merlin languorously crawled up his body and sat just above his cock.

Merlin bent over him and kissed him passionately, biting at his lower lip when he pulled away. “I’m already ready for you,” he moaned into Arthur’s neck. “I stretched myself open all afternoon.”

Arthur let out an embarrassing whimper and tried to keep himself calm as Merlin lowered himself down on his cock. By the gods, he was so _tight_. As soon as Merlin had him fully seated, he began to move rapidly, tearing moans of pleasure from Arthur’s lips. He wasn’t going to last.

Merlin chanted softly and used the oil he summoned to trace symbols onto his own chest and then Arthur’s. The feel of Merlin’s magic brushing over his skin was too much and Arthur let himself fall over the crest, shaking through his release. Merlin followed soon after; spilling himself over Arthur’s stomach with a shout.

Merlin collapsed on top of him and whispered a few more ancient words before Arthur’s chest began to burn. His vision clouded with white hot pain, and he ground his teeth together to keep from crying out. When he finally opened his eyes, Merlin was smiling down at him with blazing gold orbs. Matching Pendragon crests were etched on their chests.

“It’s done. We belong to each other now.”

“What?” Arthur asked, confused.

“There always has to be a balance. I couldn’t have the power without something to ground me, and that was you.” Merlin’s smile was blinding.

Arthur thought was kind of fitting, because Merlin had always grounded him.

* * *

**18**

"You haven't consummated the bond?"

"There was no pull, Gaius. No one I felt attracted to."

"Perhaps you've already consummated, then?"

"Sorry, no. I've not had time for a decent wank, let alone that."

"Your mate must not have reached their 19th yet."

\----  
Mordred. Merlin couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that his mate was Mordred. He was a child to Merlin's 27 years.

"Merlin. I didn't think I'd be so fortunate." Mordred said. "Sire, excuse us. We need to have a chat."

Arthur dismissed them. Mordred grabbed Merlin's arm and lead him out into the corridor.

"Come along. This conversation would best be held in my quarters." Mordred said. Merlin followed quietly.

"You know what's going on as well as I do, Emrys." Mordred said, once they were behind closed doors.

"I'm not going to submit to you, Mordred. I'd rather die." Merlin said angrily, pulling his arm away.

"You know that's exactly what's at stake, Merlin." Mordred said as he invaded Merlin's space.

"It's never going to happen." Merlin said and stood his ground. 

"Oh, it will happen." Mordred said. Merlin was pushed back against the door, his mouth caputred in a bruising kiss.

Merlin pushed Mordred away. His magic hummed in the air because of the physical contact.

"No. We do this my way." Merlin said as he grabbed Mordred by the hair and forced him to kneel in front of him. "Suck. "

Merlin pulled Mordred's hair tighter when he opened his mouth to protest. "One word and I walk out of here and let us both die. Don't think you'll be able to find me; I'm more powerful than you." Merlin said.

The contempt in Mordred's eyes was evident, but he stopped struggling and moved his hands up to unclasp Merlin's belt and unlace his trousers.

"That's it. Nice and slow." Merlin said. He relaxed his grip on Mordred's hair a bit.

Mordred opened Merlin's trousers and pushed them down off his hips. They fell to pool at his ankles.  
"Wait." Merlin said and he leaned his weight against Mordred to kick take his trousers off completely, unwilling to leave himself in that vulnerable position.

"Continue." Merlin said and Mordred reached out to put a hand around Merlin's flaccid cock. Merlin's hips jerked forward involuntarily as Mordred began to lick him. His cock began to harden as he contemplated the way Mordred's mouth and disheveled hair looked as he was sucking on his cock. Mordred wasn't the worst Merlin could be stuck with, physically.

"Get up." Merlin commanded when he was fully hard. "Strip."

Merlin's interest grew as Mordred revealed his unblemished skin. His cock stood at attention from a mess of dark curls. Merlin smiled at the revelation that Mordred was not disinterested and pulled Mordred closer. He palmed Mordred's cock and bit at his neck, pleased with the way Mordred's breathing turned ragged.

"Get on the bed and prepare yourself." Merlin said as he pushed Mordred away again.

Mordred grabbed a vial from beneath his bed before climbing spreading himself out atop it. Merlin watched as long oiled fingers teased his entrance.

"Faster." Merlin commanded. Mordred instantly stopped teasing and inserted a finger. His arse seemed so tight around it that Merlin wouldn't have thought he'd fit if he hadn't known better. Merlin lost himself in his thoughts as he watched Mordred fingering himself.

Finally, there were three fingers inside Mordred. Merlin nearly called out to have him stop when he noticed blood gathering at the corner of Mordred's lips.

"You may moan." Merlin said. He then walked up to the bed and crawled between Mordred's spread thighs. He grabbed Mordred's hand and used it to coat his cock and then grabbed his other hand and brought them both up over Mordred's head. 

Once Mordred was properly restrained, Merlin grabbed his cock and slowly slid inside Mordred. When he was fully seated he reached out and wiped away the blood from Mordred's lips. Merlin thrust as he tasted the first bit of blood. Mordred moaned in response. Merlin leaned down and kissed him harshly, the taste of blood pushing them both into further oblivion as Merlin's thrusts grew faster.

"Please." Mordred gasped out as he pulled away from Merlin's mouth. Merlin was too close to care about the rule breach and palmed Mordred's cock. Mordred came with large shudders, come painting Merlin's chest. Merlin thrust a few more times and found his own release. 

Their magic quaked and exploded in satisfaction.

* * *

**19**

Arthur’s knees were beginning to ache from kneeling on the floor for what must be hours by now when he finally heard murmurs and footsteps approaching him. 

The bag was lifted off his head and he blinked a couple times, trying to get his eyes to focus in the dim light.

“What is your reason for being here?” a voice to Arthur’s left asked. 

“I-“ Arthur tried to answer, but his voice was stuck in his dry throat. Someone he couldn’t see gripped his jaw, turned his face up and poured water down his throat. Arthur spluttered but it helped.

“I was merely passing through.”

“With a weapon, without permission.” It wasn’t a question. Arthur knew all of the laws and customs of the lands the Druids claimed between the five kingdoms, the paths he should’ve taken, but didn’t. He nodded.

“You know that such an act is regarded as treason per the treaty _your father_ drafted.”

“Yes.”

“And you know the punishment?”

 _Death._ “Yes.”

“You will be executed at first light.” The man Arthur assumed to be a Council Elder said and made to leave.

“No!” A boy who couldn’t have been older than Arthur stepped forward. He placed his hand on Arthur’s shoulder and said, “He is mine.”

“Emrys-“ 

Emrys interrupted him, stumbling over his words and blushing, “He is, I swear it, I just haven’t laid claim to him yet, I will-“

This time, it was the Elder who interrupted, “No time like the present.”

After that, it was a flurry of commotion and far too many limbs on his body undressing him and eyes piercing through him, before the hands left but the eyes got much worse. Emrys wasted no time, whispering "make this believable, you have to," urgent and hurried, like the spit-slick fingers pumping and twisting inside of Arthur painfully, making him claw at dirt. 

Before he knew it, a pointed cough from the audience Arthur wished wasn't there made Emrys pull his fingers out, somehow making Arthur buck his hips back after it, chasing the pressure. Arthur blamed sorcery. 

Emrys shifted around, pulling Arthur up on all fours, manhandling him, making disgusting heat coil in the bottom of Arthur's stomach. Emrys raked his hands up and down Arthur's back, inching his body closer with each movement.

Eventually, he stopped and leaned over, ghosting kisses far too soft and intimate over Arthur's back before whispering darkly, "I'm going to fuck you now. Show them who you belong to."

He lined up and thrust in quickly, before Arthur had a chance to protest or worry. Arthur whimpered and shook against the pain, but dropping his head down, in what he knew was definite submission, what the tactician in him knew was the right move, the right appearance. Emrys must have agreed, as he growled above him, speeding up his thrusts into a feral, punishing pace. 

Emrys' hand snaked its way down Arthur's side and over his abdomen, gripping his half-hard cock, pumping in time with his thrusts.

"Come for me. Make them believe you're mine. Do it." His voice took on a raspy quality as his thrusts began to stutter and his grip around Arthur's cock got tighter, stripping him hard and fast. 

Arthur knew Emrys was close, and in spite of it all, so was Arthur, drowning out the people around them and focusing only on the pants and whispers above him; on the pleasure-pain jolting through his body, reminding him he was still alive and would be. It was that thought and a searing-hot pain like a brand at the back of his neck, followed by soothing licks and kisses, that finally pushed Arthur over the edge, making him spill himself all over Emrys' hand and the dirt.

Emrys pumped into him a couple more times before filling him up with his seed, making Arthur shudder. Emrys pulled out slowly and smoothed a hand over Arthur's back before telling him to get up and turning to the Elders. 

"Before the Eyes of the High Magic Council and the laws of the land, I have marked this man as mine, to fall under my protection and my care, may no harm come to him on these lands." 

The silence after he finished stretched for far too long but the Elder eventually nodded, Emrys smiled and knelt down in a show of respect. After a couple of moments of awkwardness, Arthur felt the back of his neck pulse hotly. He knelt too.

* * *

**20**

There are mittens, scarves and parkas in the way when they kiss under the streetlight. The tip of Gwen's nose is cold where it pushes against Arthur's cheek, but her mouth is hot, her lips tight over his. He hears Merlin somewhere in the darkness, yelling, but the words are lost in the static in the air and then the streetlight blinks off, finally, and the shadows move.

"Not without a fight," he mutters into Gwen's mouth, and she nods.

Then they fight.

*

Arthur and Morgana find Merlin and Will first, holed up in their apartment, where Merlin's magic manages to keep the cold at bay. But Merlin wants to get out of the city, find his mum, or at least find out if she has disappeared like the rest of the people, everywhere.

They find Gwen next, hers the only light still on in her apartment building, with a generator and scavenged supplies, like some DIY princess in her tower.

And it's cold and it's dark and there are things in the darkness.

Still, Merlin has magic and Arthur has a cricket bat and Morgana has their father's nine iron.

And Gwen has a sword.

*

She stands in the doorway of Merlin's mum's guest room, dressed in thick woolly socks that are too big for her, slipping down to pool around her ankles, and an oversized sweater that could be Merlin's. Arthur watches her and wants to slide his hands along her bare legs, slip his fingers under the hem of her shirt. He wants to find the warmth there because it seems to have gone away from everywhere else, the rest of the world left as a cold shell.

He does love her. He loves her in that burning, frantic, the world is ending all around us kind of way that makes grand gestures useless, but colours everything with enough desperation to be felt too strongly.

*

The lights in Hunith's house are always on. Arthur doesn't know where the bulbs get the electricity anymore, but then he hears her say "your father" to Merlin, her voice low and private and Arthur turns away, gets out of the room before he can see the look on Merlin's face.

Gwen is waiting just outside the door. They share a look and Gwen brushes her palm over Arthur's forearm.

"Come on," she says.

*

Morgana is down and the only word Arthur can form is no. No no no no no no, over and over in his head. He's probably shouting it too, he can't tell. The darkness is buzzing and the shadows are gathering over Morgana, moving like a cloud of insects, and Arthur imagines black shells and hungry mouths.

Merlin reaches her first and there's a burst of light that hurts Arthur's eyes, burns after images on his retinas. The darkness disperses, but Merlin is fading fast and Arthur knows they are losing, that this is hopeless.

He can't stop.

*

She brings him into her bedroom, her sheets still warm from her body, and guides Arthur on the bed, pushes him gently down. Her skin against Arthur's hands and mouth is smooth and warm. She's the antithesis of everything that waits for them outside. Inside this room, in her bed, there's no cold, dry winds, storybook drifts of snow or the endless dark.

The wings of her shoulder blades fit in his palms.

*

Arthur doesn't have any hope of his own anymore.

But he will fight.

He can't stop.

* * *

**21**

“Sounds like they’re throwing a feast. Bet that brought out the fancy silverware.” Merlin laughed, shifting his weight from foot to foot. 

Arthur’s mouth tightened infinitesimally.

So maybe it wasn’t very funny. Or maybe it was hilarious, and it was just that Arthur had barely spoken to him for three days, ever since Merlin had been forced to reveal his magic to keep them from dying a rather frosty death. Or, OK, it might be the fact that their friends were being held hostage inside the castle – possibly by their own clothes. “Well, at least they aren’t cold,” Merlin said. Arthur didn’t turn to look at him, but that might have something to with the naked bit. Or, well, the naked bits. Right. 

Merlin had no such compunctions; anything to distract him from what Arthur might be thinking. He ignored the next angry, wobbly lurch of his stomach.

The gate opened obligingly when Merlin said, “My, aren’t you looking ravishing tonight,” grinning and stroking a lazy finger down its surface. 

“See? It never hurts to smile.” Merlin tried not to sigh when Arthur scowled and muttered “Next time I’m letting you freeze to death” instead. The stones felt hard underneath Merlin’s bare feet as they crossed the courtyard; he’d become used to the soft forest ground.

Two lances were barring the doors, but they were snoring the snore of the drunk; Arthur moved them easily, motioning for Merlin to follow him and his naked arse down the hallway. 

They made it to the secret goblin-harbouring room in the library, though the trip was particularly gruesome. The torches kept trying to throw looming shadows their way, giggling in a very creepy, untorch-like manner whenever Merlin jumped. One of the doors shouted, “It’s him! The sorcerer! Off with his head!” as they snuck past; Arthur’s arse faltered only for a moment, and thankfully the din from the throne room was drowning everything else out. As they slipped past it, he saw his ratty blue neckerchief sprawled on Arthur’s throne, overseeing the garments and most of the furniture spread all over the floor dancing and laughing and generally creating an uproar. He heard Gwaine’s shirt sing a dirty ditty, and absolutely did not recognise Arthur’s underclothes swaying lazily on the other throne.

*

“Ha!” said Merlin after the book stopped trying to bite his hand off. And then, “Um.”

*

“Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?” Arthur said, and why on earth would he choose now to look Merlin in the eye again?

“No, Arthur, I’ve made it up because I’ve been dreaming of you ravishing me for years. Take me. Take me now.”

Arthur had the courtesy to blush.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be the one lying on this really very comfortable table, sire?” It came out annoyed, but then Arthur actually faltered. Merlin sighed. “Um. How do we... ?” He looked down at his limp cock. This would be an excellent time for it to come alive, too. Maybe it could carry out this awkward conversation for him. How was this his life again?

*

Arthur’s fingers brushed the inside of his thigh, and they both jumped. Arthur did it again; for some reason, the idiot didn’t stop looking at him now, and Merlin’s breath caught.

*

All in all, his life was pretty OK, Merlin decided some time later, the table shuffling over the floor while his feet were trying to find purchase on Arthur’s arse. He was fascinated by the hectic flush on Arthur’s face, and the way Arthur was still staring at him intently.

“I won’t let it take you,” Arthur gasped when he started the spell, holding on tight enough to bruise. “The magic. I won’t let it turn you evil, do you hear?” 

And Merlin thought, Oh. _Oh_ .

*

After, Merlin yelped and jumped off the table. It looked back at him, said, “Rude,” and turned into solid wood again. Arthur looked at the bite mark on his bum, and laughed. 

And for the first time in three days, Merlin’s laugh was genuine, too.

* * *

**22**

Arthur didn’t like this planet. It didn’t grow apples (Arthur loved apples), he missed his bed (he hated the watery substance the Ealdorians used instead of feathers), but most of all, he _didn’t want a slave_ (they were called ‘Manservants’ actually, but they were slaves to him).

And yet, the Ealdorians, with their advanced technology that created eerily human robots, had still thrust a Manservant upon him in spite of his adamant protests. He followed Arthur at every waking moment, and he was a bloody pain in the arse. He also had really dorky ears and bright blue eyes that twinkled (who the hell designed the Manservants?), and after a few weeks stranded on Ealdor, Arthur had accepted he wouldn’t be rid of him.

Arthur has never had a slave, so he doesn’t have anyone else to compare to, but he’s sure that Merlin is a pretty piss-poor slave. He never listens when Arthur tells him to go away, he brings ‘Ealdorian delicacies’ that make Arthur want to puke, and he’s always _touching_ Arthur – trying to help him dress in the mornings, washing his back, combing his hair – all things Arthur is more than capable of doing himself.

The unnecessary touching all makes sense when, six weeks into Arthur’s stranded vacation on Ealdor, he finds himself in the ridiculous position of tearing the clothes off of his Manservant.

“For someone designed to do this, you’re awfully terrible at it,” Arthur comments as he pulls off the silly neck scarf. “How was I meant to know that you were flirting with me?”

“Have you considered that maybe your thick head is just really obtuse?” Merlin shoots back, interrupted by a moan that is definitely induced by pain, not pleasure. “Can you please just get on with it?”

“You’re really bossy for a robot made to serve, you know that?” Arthur snorts, but obliges by pulling off Merlin’s trousers. “Why didn’t you tell me at the beginning that if I didn’t sleep with you, your body would shut down?”

Merlin rolls his hips as his trousers are tossed across the room, his cock freed and aching. “I didn’t want to force you to something you didn’t want to do,” he says quietly.

Arthur is silent for a moment, but he wraps his hand around Merlin and starts to stroke, eliciting whimpers. “Ealdor needs to do something about your systems,” Arthur says. “It’s not right. Robots have rights too.”

A ghost of a smile pulls at Merlin’s lips as he pulls Arthur down by his arm. “We’re slaves, Arthur, just like you said. We’re not anyone’s friend. It’s not for us to question. We’re machinery, and we don’t have feelings.”

Arthur gazes into Merlin’s eyes. “You’re _my_ friend,” he whispers, fingers wet with Merlin’s pre-come. “And I know you have feelings.” He squeezes the head of Merlin’s cock, and Merlin cries out. Arthur watches him. “I _know_.”

“You have to fuck me,” Merlin gasps out frantically, his clamp on Arthur tightening. “There’s less than twenty minutes until it’s been six weeks, and then I’m terminated. _Please_ , Arthur.”

Arthur hadn’t wanted this, he hadn’t, but he’d lie if he said he doesn’t want it now: Merlin spread naked across his bed, cock flushed and throbbing in his hand. He’s the most beautiful thing Arthur has ever laid eyes upon – and he’s seen Albion’s sunrise.

“I’m sorry,” Arthur murmurs, and then he’s pushing a slick finger into Merlin’s arse. When Arthur is three fingers deep, with Merlin choking his name under him, Arthur pulls out.

“This is going to hurt, but we don’t have time,” Arthur warns as he takes his cock out; he’s still fully clothed, but glancing at the clock, there’s _no time_.

“I was made for this, remember?” Merlin says through gritted teeth. “Just fuck me already!”

Arthur suppresses rolling his eyes and pushes into Merlin, filling the hot space. Merlin’s spine arches with his scream, and his eyes turn from blue to gold.

“Fuck, fuck, _fuck_ ,” Merlin chants, vocal cords stretched raw. “ _Arthur._ ” 

Without any more doubt in his mind, Arthur spreads Merlin’s legs wide and fucks into him, gathering speed as Merlin cries for _more, I need more, fuck yes_ , and when he finally brings Merlin to the edge, their hands entwined against the water mattress, Merlin’s eyes burn liquid molten and comes all over their stomachs. 

When Arthur follows him, tumbling over the precipice and filling Merlin’s arse, the backs of his eyes are brighter than Albion’s sunset.

* * *

**23**

In the end, Freya saved his life. 

The final scourge against those with magic came not by Arthur's hand, but by that of another kingdom. What had once been known as Camelot went to war to protect the victims of the genocide. In the end Merlin became careless and did not see the spear aimed at his heart. It had happened near water, and the woman's spirit rose to help a man who had once helped her. She used the spirits of nature to bind him to an oak tree, saving his life but trapping him there until the times would become calm once more. 

The times never calmed. 

Kingdoms rose and fell. Centuries past and still he was trapped in sleep, suspended in time, and unaware of the world changing and becoming far from the world he knew. Now there was to be no world for him to know. 

The dark haired woman set down her camping gear and consulted her map. Looking to a small stream she touched her fingertips to the water. If one could observe her they could see her eyes glow gold. 

"Thank You, Freya." Morgana said to the river. Part of her wished she could have known the woman when she was alive. She smiled a little as she remembered how she never let Merlin know that she knew about the dress. Not that any of it mattered. 

Centuries past and there were deaths, rebirths and redemptions. Morgana was the same, but not. Many lifetimes had a way of putting things into a perspective and now that the world was ending there was no time to dwell on the past. 

_Not the world though._ she thought. Just the people.

 _Keep him safe_ The river seemed to say to her. Morgana would.

Placing her hand on the oak she whispered the spell. The tree lit on fire, and in a flash it was extinguished and nothing left of the tree but a bewildered Merlin. She helped him up and tried not to laugh as he looked with confusion at her clothes. 

"Morgana...what?"

"Shhh." She said. "You have no idea how many centuries have passed do you?" She hung her head and gave him a shortened version of everything that had happened and what will happen.

"So you release me only to die?" He asked, a barb on his tongue about how it was typical of her. 

"No." She replied. "There's one final spell." she said, spreading out the sleeping bag. "I cannot do this with anyone else."

He stared at her a moment, then it clicked. It would be a final bit of magic in a dying world. He watched as she disrobed, thinking how ill suited the modern clothing was for her. He did the same, oddly accepting of all of this. How many times he had wanted this, but not under these circumstances.

Carefully entered her both clinging onto one another as Morgan softly recited the spell into his ear, and in in turn replied with the counter spell. Scratching and animalistic they were rough with one another. Too many years had passed for gentle endearments to be thought of. 

When the end came they both vanished in the blinding light, forever to be entwined in one another.

* * *

**24**

There is hope. 

One night, when Arthur’s a baby, _everybody_ shares the same dream about Emrys the Dragonlord, who will come and save them. All believe in it.

Arthur doesn’t remember. He grows up skeptical because he doesn’t think one man can save them from this hell. 

But Arthur does dream, the same sort every night. He’s the prince of Camelot. He lives in a castle, adores his father, trains with the knights, hates magic and fears dragons.

When he’s awake, things are very different. He lives in the old Underground system of London, the trains long gone and the dark tunnels now providing shelter. His parents are gone; he’s with the other humans, and they look out for one another while trying to _survive_. He doesn’t use a sword, but he’s well versed with an ice-gun at a very young age. Magic can save lives.

He does fear dragons, though. 

Up above, they rule the world.

\--

Arthur’s reaction to his dreams changes when he’s twenty-years-old. His first dream featuring Merlin shouldn’t be anything spectacular -- Merlin is cheeky and disrespectful. They fight.

But when Arthur wakes up, his cock is hard and leaking, his breath coming in harsh pants as arousal sweeps over him in an intensity he’s never felt before. He palms his dick, groaning, thankful that he’s found a private alcove for his scheduled sleep-cycle.

He gets off quickly, but as he does he pictures this beautiful Merlin in compromising and delicious ways. It seems so vivid it could’ve been real.

This isn’t the last of Merlin in his dreams. Instinctively, he knows that Merlin is something more.

\--

Arthur is walking amongst the plants in the hydroponic greenhouse deep below the earth’s surface. The magic users have done what they can to help them grow -- rations are meager still, but it’s more natural produce then they’ve had in years.

Leon -- his once Sir Leon, who doesn’t remember even though Arthur knows now -- finds him there and reports news of a new group of survivors that’ve travelled across the lands to find refuge.

“That’s a long, dangerous road,” Arthur says, surprised. “Why would they risk the dragon packs?”

“They heard of your bravery, how you keep the people of our community safe. They have someone to protect and their camp wasn’t sufficient.”

“Who could be so important? A strong magic user?”

“Yes.” Leon pauses. “They say they have Emrys.”

“Emrys is a dream,” Arthur says immediately.

“These people insist. They say even the dragons know of him, try to target him.”

“And they would bring him here? Put us in danger?”

“They’ve nowhere else to go.”

“Bloody hell. We’ve barely enough to help our own.”

“You would turn them away?” 

Arthur shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“’S’what I thought,” Leon says. “I’ll take you to meet them.”

–

Emrys isn’t a dream; neither is Merlin. They are the same. When their eyes meet over everyone’s heads in the crowd of dirty, tired survivors, Arthur sees the same recognition in Merlin’s gaze.

It takes minutes that feel like hours before they have a moment alone, Arthur begging off dozens of questions and stating he needs to see to Emrys’ safety.

Arthur breathes, “Merlin.”

“It’s really you,” Merlin says, awed. “My dreams are--“

“Real.”

“Once,” Merlin agrees.

“And you’re the Dragonlord who will save us all.” 

Merlin’s shoulders sag with a burden Arthur easily recognises. “Everyone thinks so, but I don’t know how.”

“The dreams will tell you,” Arthur says, confident. “At the right time.”

“Perhaps.” Merlin raises his hand, knuckles grazing Arthur’s cheek. The simple touch is better than all the fantasies Arthur ever imagined. Merlin whispers, “I think we can do this together.”

“I think we always have.”

\--

Their first battle against the dragons is a success beyond belief, Arthur with his weapons and Merlin with his remembered ancient language. There is celebration, somber as it is with the lives that were lost.

Hidden in the greenhouse, Merlin and Arthur press together, hands clutching hungrily. It’s quick and frantic, the bulge of Merlin’s cock in his trousers rutting against Arthur’s leg. Arthur grabs Merlin’s arse, urging him on, harder and faster, and rubs his full cock against Merlin’s hip. Kissing is clumsy, desperate, a mere mashing of lips and clashing of teeth. Merlin tastes like ash and magic and Arthur drinks him in.

They both come trembling against each other’s bodies, and Arthur’s mind echoes, _Hope. Finally. Again._

* * *


	5. Group B (without warnings)

**25**

“Fuck or die,” Hellos says calmly as he waves a pistol at Morgana and Gwaine.

“I beg your pardon?” Morgana gasps sounding completely stunned.

“You need me to say it again? Clearer this time? Fuck. Or. Die. Simple really,” Helios says as he continues to wave the pistol back and forth his two hired goon standing dumbly behind him. 

Morgana looks at Helios and then turns to Gwaine, “Why did you let him in?”

“What are you looking at me for? He’s the one with the gun and if I remember correctly you used to date him,” Gwaine says with a smug look.

“Just because I dated him doesn’t make him sane and if I remember correctly you also fucked him,” Morgana says with an equally smug look. 

“That means nothing. I’ve fucked half the known world. I’m kinda a slut that way,” Gwaine says smugly. 

Morgana rolls her eyes, “If you were half as truthful as you are vain I’d believe you.”

“Excuse me, but I’m the one with the gun here.” Helios chimes in with a polite wave of the gun in question “Get with the fucking already.”

“Um, maybe we should do as the man says,” Gwaine says as he pushes Morgana towards the bed. 

“Strip, both of you,” Helios says following them and sitting in a chair facing the bed, His two minions flanking him on either side.

“Guess we do what the crazy man with a gun tells us,” Gwaine says as he pulls off his clothes.

Morgana looks at him with a wobbly smile as she tries to unbutton her jeans. 

Gwaine catches her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilts it towards his face, 

“Hey, you and me, just you and me. That’s all that matter.”

Morgana meets his eyes and says, “You and me,” as she unhooks her bra. 

“I want to see her ride him, yeah. See those tits bounce,” Helios grins.

Gwaine lies down on his back and pulls Morgana on top of him. 

“You’re hard! How are you hard?” Morgana stares incredulously.

“Umm, you naked pressed up against me? All it takes babe,” Gwaine whispers to her.

Morgana smiles as she sinks down onto his dick. It’s a smile that not many see, small and genuine and just meant for him. 

“Ah, that’s the stuff,” Gwaine says as he thrust up into her. 

“I want to see those titties bounce. Make it good,” Helios says as the sound of his goons heavy breathing gets louder.

“You heard the man,” Gwaine says as he waggles his eyebrows at her, “let’s make them jiggle.”

Morgana laughs and starts bouncing up and down on Gwaine’s dick, it’s not long before they are both panting. Gwaine reaches between them to where his dick is sliding in and out of her and presses down hard on her clit just as he starts to come inside her, sending her over the edge at the same time.

They both lie on the bed, Morgana collapsed on Gwaine’s chest, sweaty and sated. 

“Nice show, now both of you get up. You at the foot of the bed and you at the top,” Helios orders, “Oi, you tie them to the bed,” he orders the nearest goon. “Don’t try to find me, I’ll be long gone by the time you get free, just wanted to mess with you before I left,” Helios grins as he leaves with the two goons in tow. 

“Umm, what just happened?” Gwaine asks a few minutes later. 

Morgana just looks at him with an incredulous face, “Damned if I know but I’m glad it was with you.”

Gwaine honest to god blushes.

* * *

**26**

There are only five of them ready to bear but with so many preparing for war, it's what can be expected. Merlin arrives just as the Priestess Morgana is blessing the ceremony.

"We are here to prevent the destruction of our lives and the crumbling of our futures," she says, eyes lined with gold. Merlin knows she's Seeing now. He wouldn't be here, bearing his belly to an Alpha King, if she hadn't foretold peace from a sired child.

Every Omega had seen the King, in their dreams and in their nightmares true, but also in the campaigns of war. A union between an Alpha and Omega would bring faith to the Betas and stability for the region. A forced peace from a forced union.

Merlin bares his teeth in disgust, covering the sopping heat pooling underneath him, as the Golden King disrobes. He is everything the rumors told: thick with strength in his thighs, his sinewy arms and the whisper of his knot.

The Golden King's thrusts are powerful, knocking some of Merlin's brothers and sisters flat onto the stone beneath them as they writhe with the girth of his cock, but even as he stills and knots with each of them—the air doesn't glow.

Illogically, Merlin blames the blank face of the Alpha. The only sign of his physical exertion is a high color on his cheeks and the sweat that beads down his neck. His face doesn't twist in pleasure. His grunts are lifeless. His ties are short. Here, there is no passion and there is no equality.

There will be no child.

There will only be war.

Merlin watches Gwen, her breasts swaying as the King drives into her from behind. She is beautiful in pleasure, opening her sweet wetness for such an undeserving Alpha. It makes Merlin snarl.

Before long, there have been four unions and none of them have taken.

Merlin meets the King's eyes. "You will take me on my back," he says, through his teeth. "You will take me as your equal."

Shock, the first emotion Merlin has witnessed on the Alpha's beautiful face, passes quickly. The King sneers, pushing to loom over Merlin's body but he does not budge, simply growls in the beast's face.

"An equal, you say?"

Merlin licks his lips and watches as the King tracks the movement.

"For my brothers and sisters, I will bear your dog-cock. But I will not yield to you for _you_ ," Merlin spits in his face. "War Kings will never bring me pleasure."

The King is on him but the swift entry that Merlin had prepared for doesn't come. Instead, his mouth is pried open and fucked wide with a sharp tongue. Merlin refuses to mewl but arches into the King's hands as he pushes and pulls against Merlin's oversensitive flesh. Merlin doesn't lie still but wages an assault to counter this King's. With hands and mouths they snarl over each other until Merlin feels a too rough, callused palm engulf his cock—Merlin keens, head knocking back as pleasure tears through him. Neck exposed is enough of a submission and he rakes his fingernails over the King's golden toned back, crying out in hedonism but wrenching his eyes open to meet the hazy, lust-ridden fog of the Alpha's.

"You will bear me a prince," the King proclaims, stroking his cock twice before thrusting into the sloppy and gaping hole of Merlin's entrance. The thrusts are barely tolerable, pleasure warring with pain as the King drives into him, splitting him wide and snarling as Merlin moans, thrashing and countering his hips with every drive. He will come soon, from the force of the Alpha's thrust and headiness of breaking the calm that others could not.

"Your belly will be swollen with my seed, whore," the Alpha groans. "You will take my knot until I tire of your heat."

Merlin sneers, "Prove it."

With a shout, Merlin can feel the swell but the King doesn't cease his thrusts. Instead, his hips drive harder and the knot has to be worked so thoroughly into him that he does scream, thrashing beneath the bulk of the King until it is unbearable.

"Come for me now," the King whispers, against Merlin's neck. "Come for me, Merlin, Son of the DragonKings."

His body sings in an explosion of pleasure, bathed in golden light as he climaxes and the King bites deep, marking him for life while seeding a child inside of him.

Their tie lasts nearly three golden hours.

* * *

**27**

**From this Day to the Ending of the World.**

“I didn't think the end of the world would be so beautiful,” Merlin says as Arthur approaches, padding on silent feet through the moon-silvered grass. It's a warm night, warm enough that Merlin is clad in nothing but a pair of light linen trousers that frame his slender hips. He's watching the moons collide above them and Arthur has to admit that perhaps he has a point. 

Up there, in the space far above their heads, there is terrible destruction and it will rain down on this planet before the next moonrise. But for now, the reflected light from a thousand shards of shattered moon turns everything to otherworldly shades of silver and blue.

Arthur takes another step, just close enough to press lips to Merlin's bare shoulder and trail feather-light fingers down the curve of his ribs, the silken feeling of Merlin's skin sliding under his fingertips. His eyes drink in the sight of light falling across Merlin's high, beautiful cheekbones and the way the barest hint of spider shadows dances across his cheeks when he blinks.

When Merlin turns his head to look at Arthur, his eyes are golden and this close Arthur can see the subtle shift of color within them, stretching out like the billions of galaxies they'd flown thrown to get here.

“They say we don't have enough time to evacuate,” Arthur says in a hushed tone, somehow feeling that his few words have broken the stillness of the air like ripples in water.

“I know,” Merlin replies calmly as he sinks to his knees, pulling Arthur with him to the grass.

Arthur goes willingly, watching the shift of lean muscle under Merlin's skin as he descends. Merlin is beautiful, ethereal and unreal― he has always been so since time immemorial and Arthur is humbled at times to think that his life this time around must look so very short to Merlin's ancient eyes. 

Merlin presses lips to his softly, almost sweetly as he pushes Arthur back into the grass. This is his goodbye and although Arthur wants desperately to believe that he will see Merlin again in another life, he knows that it isn't true. This is their last time.

Merlin takes Arthur in his mouth slowly, and oh, what a mouth Merlin has. Arthur lets his head fall back and his eyes fill with stars as he imagines the words that have come from Merlin's mouth. Merlin's are the kind of words that have felled empires and burned worlds. They are the words that built nations from stone and ash and grown life in the desert from nothing but sand.

Arthur moans as Merlin swallows around him, mouth sinful with heat and wetness. There's something about sex with Merlin that embodies so much of what they are. Sex is flesh and blood― sticky with sweat and come and so very, very human. But there's a holiness to it, not like religion but something beyond that. It is a holiness that makes him believe that they are so much more then just two bodies tangled together under under the stars, that perhaps they are souls tangled together under the fabric of time.

Merlin sucks him sweet and slow, and Arthur doesn't notice he's about to come until it's almost too late. He chokes out a noise that might be Merlin's name, and suddenly, Merlin's mouth is gone, leaving Arthur reeling from the loss of it.

He climbs into Arthur's lap, length sliding alongside Arthur's own, and spreads long-fingered hands across his chest. Arthur looks up to find Merlin haloed by broken rock in a field of stars. He can't help but smile as Merlin leans down to kiss him, tongue slipping into his mouth as Merlin wraps his hand around them both and begins to stroke.

Arthur is so close already that he comes after only a few strokes. But he relishes watching Merlin, determined to commit this moment to memory, to burn it into the backs of his eyelids for the rest of his life. He watches every exhale and inhale of breath, each time Merlin's little pink tongue darts out to wet his lips, each breathy little moan and whispered stream of words that combines magic and love and Arthur into one.

Afterward, when they're both spent and thoroughly relaxed, Merlin stretches out luxuriously in the grass next to him to watch the stars. These are not Earth's stars, but Merlin knows them anyway. Arthur falls asleep to the gentle murmur of Merlin's voice weaving the tales of constellations and the feeling of Merlin's fingers intertwined with his own.

* * *

**28**

"Arthur,” Merlin whined, tugging at his shift in the middle of the night. "Need sex."

Arthur Pendragon, son of Uther, rubbed his bleary eyes and stared.

“Again, so soon? You just had some before dinner!”

“Please,” Merlin said. “I just need to suck your cock. Please, Arthur.” Merlin looked desperate now, eyes wild and flaring gold.

Arthur sighed and removed his bedcovers, then pulled up the shift to his belly.

“Come on then.”

Merlin practically jumped onto the bed, unlacing Arthur’s smallclothes down with trembling fingers, and homed in onto his cock. There was little finesse or technique as he licked around and up and about, his pink tongue going everywhere.

 _Am I a stick of candy?_ , Arthur thought, as Merlin lapped eagerly at his rapidly-growing erection. Ordinarily, he’d have thought getting your cock sucked every night in bed was a luxury, but familiarity breeds contempt, and he’d been getting off in Merlin’s mouth at least twice daily for a month now. He was starting to get a bit sore, really.

This latent cambion blood of Merlin’s was a bit bollocks. He hadn’t thought to mention it even after the fallout of revealing his magic (which, by the way, led to screaming matches and perhaps a bit of manly tears Arthur would never admit to), and a sudden bout of a Very Serious Cold had caused the trait to flare up, resulting in a shivery, weak, dying Merlin whom Gaius had finally proclaimed needed _sea-men_. Arthur had been confused, until Morgana had told him in no uncertain terms that it meant that Merlin had to suck someone off. Guinevere just hid a smile behind her hand.

Of course, Arthur couldn’t let the honour of his personal manservant be besmirched by ~~Gwaine~~ rumours, so he long-sufferingly offered to be the sacrifice.

Thus the reason for his current state of nightly interruptions. It was a bit nice, he supposed, feeling the familiar warmth pool in his belly. And then he felt a finger prodding at his arse and yelped, nearly jumping off the bed.

“Merlin!” Arthur roared, feeling indignant.

Merlin came off his cock with a loud ‘pop’ sound. 

“What? It’s supposed to feel good!” he said, sounding a bit miffed.

“And just where did you learn that from?” Arthur asked.

“…Gwaine,” he mumbled, and looked down in embarrassment.

Arthur sighed and ran a hand through his hair.

“Just… come here.” Then he pulled Merlin up, unlaced his breeches, and aligned their cocks together. They began to rock slowly, grunting at intervals, trying to find a rhythm but sniping at each other at every turn. Arthur shut him up by biting down on his collarbone, hard. 

It took a while but he finally came with a shudder, come spilling and making a mess between their bodies, white and stark.

With a hand, he swiped at his belly, scooping up the thick, milky fluid, and made sure that he didn’t drip any on the bedclothes. Then he held Merlin’s jaw with the other hand and sternly ordered him to “open wide”.

Merlin was still panting, face flushed, having not yet come. He looked at Arthur’s hand warily and opened his mouth. Arthur slipped his fingers through, and he started licking with tiny little laps like a cat, relishing the bitter, salty taste of the come as it hit his tongue. He grasped Arthur’s wrist in his, twisting his hand so he could get to all of it.

Arthur looked at Merlin, who had just licked up the last globs of come and was smiling contentedly, eyes half-lidded, the feral, hungry look gone.

Well, he guessed it wasn’t so bad. Gaius said that he’d find a spell to control Merlin’s cambion blood soon enough.

* * *

**29**

‘ _Fuck!_ ’ Merlin stared at the place where the crazed chimpanzee had previously stood. All that was left was a pile of bloody remains and bits of fur. Swallowing, he turned to face Arthur. ‘Are you out of your bleeding _mind_? I was right _there_! You could have hit _me_ , you great prat! And where the _fuck_ did you get a freaking _machine gun_ from?’

Arthur shrugged. 

‘Dunno,’ he said. ‘It was just lying there on the road, next to some guy’s leg.’ He frowned. ‘Why are you so miffed anyway? I just saved your bloody life! You’d be a slavering monkey-zombie slave if it weren’t for me!’

‘I’d also be full of bullet holes if your aim was a little worse,’ Merlin grumbled. He looked down at himself and sighed. ‘ _And_ I’ve now got zombie-monkey blood all over me,’ he said in disgust and immediately started tugging his shirt up over his head. Having managed to pull it off without getting any of the spatter on his skin, he glanced up to throw Arthur a grin of triumph. To his surprise, Arthur was staring at him with a look of dangerous hunger on his face.

‘Oh shit,’ Merlin said, scrabbling around in his pockets for a knife. ‘You were _bitten_! A monkey bit you and now you’re a monkey-zombie slave and you want to eat me and drink my blood and-’

Arthur let out a groan.

‘Oh shut _up_!’ he growled, and he strode forward, knocking Merlin’s flailing hands away before drawing him up into a deep hungry kiss. He pulled away and glared at Merlin. ‘The only thing I’m interested in _eating_ is your _arse_ , you little idiot!’ And he went back to kissing Merlin almost ferociously.

‘Ah,’ Merlin said when they at last pulled apart for air. ‘Good. That’s good. I’m glad.’ He threw Arthur a teasing glance. ‘Otherwise I’d have to find someone else to start fucking me senseless.’ A mischievous smile twitched at his lips. ‘Perhaps Gwaine …’

With a feral snarl Arthur surged forward, shoving Merlin up against the wall with one hand and tugging roughly at Merlin’s trousers with the other.

‘If that fucker so much as _touches_ you, I’m feeding him to the monkeys,’ he warned, his lips against Merlin’s neck, causing him to squirm. Arthur took the opportunity to quickly shove his trousers down and kick them away, leaving Merlin completely naked.

Panting, Arthur looked him up and down before closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against Merlin’s. ‘This will have to be quick,’ he murmured. ‘The others are waiting for us back at camp. They won’t be happy if we make them wait for dinner – you know how hungry everyone is nowadays.’

‘Don’t care,’ Merlin grunted, pressing his groin against Arthur’s and causing them both to moan. ‘This will only take a minute. I like it fast and hard anyway.’

Arthur snorted before quickly seizing Merlin by the thighs and pushing them up around his waist. Reaching down in between Merlin’s arse-cheeks, he was pleased to discover that Merlin had already come prepared.

‘Fast and hard, eh?’ Arthur muttered, lining himself up against Merlin’s entrance. ‘I can do that.’ And with one swift thrust, he had pushed himself into Merlin. 

Merlin groaned as Arthur shoved in unrelentingly, not letting up until he was buried balls-deep inside of him. Once in, they both let out a sigh.

‘Right,’ Merlin said after a moment, pinching Arthur’s side. ‘Let me have it.’

And without a moment’s pause, Arthur began furiously plunging his cock in and out of Merlin, grunting with every thrust he made. Merlin’s loud, pleasure-filled moans only served to spur him on quicker. At that moment they wouldn’t have noticed even if a horde of angry zombie-monkeys had come up behind them. 

‘Arthur!’ Merlin moaned, as Arthur’s dick hit a wonderful spot inside of him. ‘God, right there!’

‘Fuck!’ Arthur swore, shoving his cock in harder, his grip on Merlin’s waist bruising in its intensity and his hips all but slamming into Merlin’s. ‘Jesus, you’re so _tight_!’

Merlin moaned at that and, at the next bruising thrust, clenched tightly around Arthur’s dick and came almost violently against their chests.

Arthur, with a few more hurried, jerky thrusts, came moments later. 

They stood like that for a moment still joined.

‘So,’ Merlin said after a moment, looking up with a soft grin. ‘Ready to face the ravenous monkey hordes?’

Arthur smirked, his gun already within reach.

‘Absolutely,’ he said, and kissed Merlin.

* * *

**30**

"You've missed me, haven't you, pet?" Morgana sweeps into the bedroom grandly, ignoring Merlin's glare from where he kneels, waiting.

She comes to him without care, lifting his chin with her fingers and stealing a kiss from his mouth. His fingers curl, likely wishing they were at her throat, but she simply laughs. She has made the cord around his wrists that binds him to peace; it is golden thread spun from Arthur's hair, and it drips with magic.

"He calls for you," Morgana tells Merlin, curling his hair between her fingers. "I have told him that you are dead, but he doesn't believe me."

Merlin's mouth is a defiant twist; she presses a finger between his lips and breaks it apart.

***

So long as Arthur is alive Merlin will do whatever she bids, but he is not broken. The mark on his tongue allows him to use his mouth only for her pleasure, but it does not mean he does not bite.

When she is not in the mood for biting, she gags him. She has always liked seeing Merlin on his back.

"Harder," she pushes him, sitting astride his cock.

He is already dripping with sweat, hips faltering as he pushes up into her, but she bares her teeth and _demands_. She knows she will never get true satisfaction from him, so she can only take as much as she is able. She can only take everything he has.

***

An eternity of torment is less than he deserves, Morgana thinks in bed some nights, when she wakes from black and red nightmares. These are the nights that she glances down to where Merlin sleeps, shackled to the wall.

She sucks out his golden-green dreams and bathes in them, discards them. There is no place for them in her world.

***

The window is open and the breeze smells of sulphur. Morgana breathes it in, hot, and looks down on her kingdom. It is like the world is baking. Before it was a wet sludge, but she has hardened it—soon she will crack it open and take the bread as her due.

Merlin approaches, head bowed. He carries a tray, bringing a glass of water.

"Concerned for my welfare, were you?" she asks, delicately lifting the glass. The water inside is cold, and fills her with an inexplicable rage.

He sputters when she grabs his jaw, forcing him down, and coughs when she pours the water over his face, into his open mouth.

"Oh, pet," Morgana whispers, and sweeps droplets from his eyelashes.

She forces him down further, fingers wet, and breaches him without hesitation. He moans, in either pleasure or pain—she cares not which—and goes still under her, arching only occasionally, until she has had her fill.

When she kisses the water from his mouth, it doesn't taste of poison at all. It tastes of salt.

***

She takes his head between her legs and tells him of Arthur.

"Sometimes he cries," she says, dragging her fingers along Merlin's scalp. "I won't let him see you, I won't tell him I have you here, but he knows. He wants me to just kill him, and let you go."

Merlin's tongue digs deep into her cunt, vicious.

"But I won't kill him," she reassures Merlin, stroking his hair. "You obey me as promised, and I'll keep him alive forever. If I killed him you'd tear the world apart, wouldn't you? What's left of it, that is."

Merlin's eyes flick up to hers. In them, she sees a desperation that mirrors her own. It is the kind of desperation that Morgana knows how to use.

***

This she has prophesized: together, they will be the end of everything.

It will come on her own terms.

* * *

**31**

I would fall on my knees for you

 

"Do it," Agravaine says.

Gwaine can feel the cold barrel of the gun against his temple, holds down a shiver when he hears the click of the bullet settling into place. The sound echoes in the ten foot by ten foot room with white walls. The only things in the room are the chair to which Lance is bound, head hanging, and the camera pointed right in Gwaine and Lance's direction.

"No, thank you," Gwaine answers. "I just brushed my teeth."

He's rewarded with a blow to the face that sends him reeling, hands spasming against the rope that ties his hands to his back. Agravaine forces Gwaine to his knees and shoves him forward so that Gwaine's cheek lands on Lance's thigh. Lance says nothing and Gwaine hopes the blow he received is enough to keep Lance well out of it until Gwaine comes up with a plan to get them out of here.

The only door in the room is blocked by Agravaine and that other guard with the muscles. Even if Gwaine could get free there's no way neither Agravaine nor the guard would notice and as much as Gwaine hates his job, he doesn't much fancy getting shot just to get out of it. Besides, there's Lance.

It's not the boy's fault his father, Arthur, is fucking Morgana's son. There's no other explanation for why Agravaine pointed his gun at Gwaine's head and asked him to suck.

"If you don't want to do it, I can put you out of your misery. I'll shoot you and fuck the little boy until he screams," Agravaine hisses in Gwaine's ear. "I bet he's never been fucked before."

Gwaine shudders, but not because Agravaine has a gun to his head. He's not afraid because even if he dies, Morgana wouldn't dare kill Lance, not with Merlin so close to Arthur. Gwaine shudders because Agravaine's words hit home. 

He's thought so much about Lance and his brown eyes, the way he smiles at everyone, how he is the first to offer his seat on the bus to others. He's everything Gwaine isn't; innocent, clean. He's seventeen and Gwaine is thirty, but he's still gotten himself off to the thought of Lance underneath him, his eyes wide as Gwaine taught him things, made him feel things, no one else had.

"Suck," Agravaine says.

"You need to untie my hands," he tries.

"Use your teeth."

Gwaine turns sideways, his hair covering most of his view as he grins. "Kinky bastard. I bet you get off on this."

He gets a blow to the back of the head in response. Agravaine's gun is pressed against the back of Gwaine's head and there's blood in his mouth, but there's nothing to do. 

"You're letting us go after?" Gwaine asks as he scoots forward on his knees until he's right in between Lance's legs.

"If you make it good," Agravaine answers.

Lance's eyes flutter open when Gwaine's teeth tug the zip on his jeans down. 

"Don't stop," Agravaine commands. "Don't talk to him either if he wakes up."

Gwaine says nothing, just mouths at the outline of Lance's cock through his boxers. He licks to get the material wet while his eyes scan the room as best as he can. Anything to keep his mind off what he's doing. Anything to keep his thoughts away from how he's fucked up big time. 

Fucking skirt. 

It's that girl's fault, her, her suicidal tendencies to cross streets without looking and Lance's damn hero tendencies. He got those from his father and Gwaine had to jump in so that Lance wouldn't, took his eyes off Lance for _one fucking second_ and they'd ended up here.

"Gwaine," Lance breathes out. "What are you doing?"

It's the way Lance says his name that has heat pooling low in Gwaine's stomach. He can't answer and that just drives him forward, how Lance's eyes widen when Gwaine tries to suck at the head of Lance's cock. It's the low moan that escapes from Lance's lips—the idea that he might want this, that Gwaine on his knees sucking him off is what causes him to harden. It pushes Gwaine over a line he'd never been willing to cross. He knows the camera is recording this, that Arthur will see it.

But Gwaine doesn't care about that. 

All he wants is to get Lance off and if he can snap Agravaine's neck afterwards, well, that's just a bonus.

* * *

**32**

"He will need the essence of the knights to survive, but mostly he will need you."

Gaius' words echoed in Merlin's ears. Bad enough to be outed as a sorcerer. Bad enough to see the look of hurt on Arthur's face, but now to be in a room with them all and to perform THIS kind of druidic ritual to save a man that will kill Merlin if he recovers. Might even kill them all for participating in it.

The spell was powerful old magic that drained life back to the earth. Only essential essences of a devoted one could halt it's progress, maybe even slowly bring the King back from the brink of death. 

Gaius was first. He would use his own magic and oils to ease the way for the others that followed. He would also start the chant. Arthur was to oversee the rite as the closest living relation but averted his eyes so as not to be drawn into it himself. 

Devotion. All in the room wore long red robes and nothing more. It was to be a somber event with respect and deference to the one they were doing this for. The king laid in a small circle surrounded by his and Arthur's most trusted men. His legs spread and raised on oddly shaped branches of the earth, naked save for two markings, one on his chest over his heart, the other on the sole of his right foot.

Leon stepped forward after Gaius finished with the preparation. He began to chant the same phrase over and over that the healer already began. "diht blædum sy éower". 

Their two voices sparked the air with something tangible. A natural smell of... It was like being back in Ealdor during harvest, or lost in the woods during a hunt after a long rain. It was growth and perseverance of life.

Leon shed his cloak, standing tall and erect for all to see. Forward he pushed slowly into the king. Merlin closed his eyes not wanting to watch what would be his lot before the rite finished, but the heat in his face told of how it was already effecting him. 

Maybe forever moments later, a stilted hum passed from Leon's lips, and Percival's baritone mingled in the air. Soft and soothing Merlin felt the tingle of his arousal. He didn't want it to be so, but the compulsion to sate something basic pulled at his groin, then tugged something deeper within him. 

He kept his eyes closed to the sight of each knight beginning the chant, dropping their robes, fucking the king and rejoining the circle. Each time stronger reverberations of the magic offered filled Uther.

It took Arthur's voice to get Merlin to open his eyes. It joined the chorus. Gauis said he didn't have to, but the ritual song might compel him even with his eyes closed like Merlin's were. And now that the visuals of all the knights standing bare, touching themselves and chanting in a perfect circle around Uther's perfectly displayed dripping hole, it was taking restraint and a spell Merlin quietly cast on himself to remain standing where he was and not run thrusting into king. 

Arthur, blond and beautiful, looked dazed, half out of his mind with desire. His own hand pushed drop after drop of clear fluid to the cave floor.

Logic should have said it was wrong for this to happen, wrong for Arthur to push inside and touch that place in his own father, but for some reason Merlin didn't care about that. He only saw the beauty of nature completing a circle, giving life.

Merlin entered the circle unable to stop himself as he began the chant. Arthur wasn't finished but that didn't matter. It was the circle that mattered. The completion of the whole. The other side of the coin. Merlin's eyes flashed brilliantly beyond his normal blue to gold. Arthur's body was made ready. Merlin could complete the circle, offer his life and essence through Arthur to Uther. Yes. That was as it was meant to be. 

His tip pushed into the tight wetness of the Prince who whimpered in his own ecstasy. More.More.More. Merlin's power siphoned off in the warm comfort of Arthur's body. Faster he rocked his hips. Faster till the flutter of Uther's eyes and the passage of time. With a sigh of relief, the sound of the knights seemed to blend into a quiet hum of the Earth's approval.

* * *

**33**

**War Was in Color**  
The rifle weighs heavily in his hands, one of Arthur's few remaining possessions. Not that'll actually help much, not in this war. It certainly didn't help its previous owner, the boy who looked up at Arthur with clouded, accusing eyes as the weapon was pulled from small, stiffened fingers.

Too young, they are always too damn young; the boy should have been playing, happy and carefree, not fighting battles that none of them will ever have a chance of winning. Merlin had the decency to shut those eyelids for the last time, murmuring a simple prayer to a God Arthur is sure stopped listening ages ago. He has already cast any form of devotion out of the recesses of his own heart, not willing to believe in a deity that would let a once thriving civilization devolve into such savagery.

To this day, those he can’t save haunts his dreams, and it was the same this morning. But instead of Merlin’s comforting hand instantly being on his back, Arthur's screaming just echoed off the crumbling walls of the empty warehouse that serves as their hideout.

After a brief moment of confusion, the events of last night came flooding back to him, and he cursed himself for being so blind. For failing to recognize the signs right in front of him.

" _You shouldn't be here_ ," Merlin had insisted, starting the same argument they’ve had a million times already, " _This isn't your fight._ "

" _You're right_ ," Arthur had responded, burying his nose into the crook of Merlin's shoulder and breathing in deeply. " _It's ours_."

Last night had been different; gone was the frantic stripping of clothes, usually driven by the desperate need to touch and connect while they still had time. In its place were lingering caresses and toe-curling kisses, whispered promises that they knew they wouldn't be allowed to keep but told each other all the same. When Arthur finally thrust his cock into Merlin's slickened heat, he stilled his movements, the sheer magnitude of the moment threatening to overwhelm him.

" _Damnit, Arthur,_ move," Merlin had pleaded through gritted teeth, " _Please_."

Arthur complied, unable to deny Merlin for much longer. And as their climax ripped through their shuddering bodies, Arthur placed his lips against Merlin’s sweat-drenched brow, struggling to ignore the soft sobbing coming from the warm body curled up in his arms.

No doubt Merlin has intended for that to be their last goodbye, but like hell is Arthur going to allow the idiot-- _his damn, lovable idiot_ \--to have the final say in the matter.

Now he darts along the abandoned streets of the former bustling metropolis; ever since the ban against magic and the subsequent rebellion, society has been to reduced to mortar and rubble, ripping humanity to shreds along with it. There’s no clear-cut sides to this war any more, the air strike missiles that constantly shriek overhead not concerned with whom they kill.

Exploding shrapnel leaves oozing ribbons in Arthur’s skin, but he doesn’t dare stop. Not now, not when he sees Merlin up ahead. Countless military drones litter the ground, and there’s even a downed helicopter smoldering nearby. This is the work of a sorcerer of the highest caliber, and Arthur is temporarily struck dumb by Merlin’s display of power.

But in the end, Merlin is only human.

“...Took you long enough,” Merlin chuckles weakly underneath the concrete partition that traps his broken body. His eyes aren’t the molten gold like whenever he uses magic, but the normal crystal clear color of the skies before the smog threw everything into darkness.

“Shut up, Merlin,” Arthur growls as he falls to his knees, immediately taking Merlin’s mouth in his despite the twangy, coppery taste. He brushes tears from Merlin’s dark eyelashes whilst his cheeks are stained with his own, and then leans down to tell Merlin everything.

He tells of a world with good men and pure hearts, untainted by the blight of ignorance or fear. Of children playing in the streets, of friends laughing with each other, of kisses stolen by lovers both young and old. Of picnics in sun-ripened meadows, blanketed by bright blue skies that stretch on forever. He talks and talks, until he runs out of things to say, until the piercing roar warns them it’s too late for Arthur to run, even if he wanted to.

Arthur kisses the curve of Merlin’s cold cheek as this crazy, fucked-up world crashes down upon them.

* * *

**34**

Merlin, as a rule, didn't tell his patients "I told you so." It didn't help the situation, it rarely prevented future accidents, and it only served to make his patients even more ashamed -- and thus less likely to see him in a timely manner in the future.

But he was willing to make an exception for Gwaine.

"I _told_ you not to go traipsing around alien planets without protective wear!" 

"Yeah, Merlin, not really helping," Gwaine hissed through gritted teeth. He was curled on his side on the examination table, not caring that it left his ass exposed. But then, Gwaine never cared if people saw his junk. Better than when Arthur came in, too embarrassed to even properly tell Merlin what was wrong.

Merlin forced Gwaine to lie straight so the computer could do a proper scan -- not that it changed the result any.

"So, when you went swimming in that river -- which I _also_ told you not to do -- some parasites decided your urethra looked very inviting."

"That sounds really bad, Merlin. Give me some good news instead?"

Merlin rolled his eyes. "You're pregnant with baby parasites. Once the eggs hatch, the larvae will eat all the delicious protein in your testicles, grow nice and big, and then chew their way out to freedom."

Gwaine turned pale, grabbed his balls, and groaned in pain. "Merlin, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you, please tell me there's a cure."

Merlin already had the syringe out and half-filled with the specific anti-parasitic needed. "I'm going to have to touch your penis and drip some liquid down your urethra. If that's all right?"

"If the alternative is my balls exploding, then _yes_ it's all right!" Gwaine even lifted the gown up and spread his legs wide, to give Merlin a clear view of his dick.

Merlin wasted no time; he cleaned the head of Gwaine's cock and pulled on a pair of gloves, then held Gwaine's penis upright so he could slowly squeeze the liquid down the opening.

"Fuck, my fantasies never started like this," Gwaine mumbled, which Merlin decided to ignore. After the syringe was emptied, he grabbed one of the smooth metal rods lying on the tray, wiped it down with an alcohol rub, and lined it up with the tip of Gwaine's cock.

"This is just to loosen you up. Want to make sure all the parasites make it out later."

"Not complaining, Merlin. Just do it."

Merlin had to admit he was slightly impressed with how unfazed Gwaine was by the procedure itself; during med school, Merlin had performed the procedure on quite a few cadets and it was always an ordeal. 

Gwaine groaned when the sound first penetrated the slit. When Merlin looked up, he saw that Gwaine was flushed completely red. 

"Fuck, that feels weird."

"Be glad it's not a catheter. Those feel even weirder."

Gwaine thankfully stayed quiet, groaning only as Merlin reapplied lube and switched out the sound for a slightly wider one. After about twenty minutes of this, Merlin figured the anti-parasitic had probably done its job.

"Okay. After this, I'm going to make you ejaculate. Is that all right or would you rather--"

"Fuck yes, please."

Merlin really shouldn't have been surprised that Gwaine was finding this all a turn on -- joke on deck was that Gwaine could find anything sexy -- but he wasn't quite prepared for Gwaine's enthusiasm. Still better than if it had been Arthur on the table, he supposed.

Once the sound was removed, Merlin handed Gwaine a cup. "Hold that by your dick to catch everything that comes out, all right?"

Gwaine nodded, and he seemed to keen when Merlin brought a lube covered hand to his hole. It was getting hard for Merlin to stay professional, but he refused to do anything untoward during work. 

Merlin worked quickly to milk Gwaine, though he was forced to bring a hand down on Gwaine's thigh to keep him from writhing so much.

"Fuck, Merlin, you gotta--"

The first pulses of come shot out and landed in the cup. Merlin kept going, until Gwaine seemed completely dry; Gwaine's entire body was trembling by the end of it.

Merlin gently lifted the cup out of Gwaine's hand and pointed. "See those green bits? Those are the parasites."

The look of horror said it all, though Gwaine smoothed it over into a grin. "Next time, let's do this without the parasites."

 _Only Gwaine_ , Merlin thought and laughed.

* * *

**35**

“Did you feel that?” Gwaine asks. When Merlin doesn't respond, he does it again, harder, making sure to catch at a nipple as he rakes his fingers down Merlin's chest.

Merlin twitches, faintly. Gwaine's breath leaves him in a rush, because that's a response, that’s better than he was starting to expect. He tries once more, biting at Merlin's earlobe as he scratches, and this time he feels the shiver all along Merlin's spine, where it's pressed against his chest.

They’re in a low-ceilinged cavern of rock, six men gathered in a loose circle around them. The men are fools, every last one, but Gwaine thinks the biggest fools are the two who have begun to let interest replace fear in their eyes.

“Why are we doing this, again?” Merlin murmurs.

_Because we need to buy time to get Leon and the others in position. Because this keeps us close together, and as long as we’re close, and I can speak into your ear and you into mine, we have a chance._

_Because you need to remember you have a body. You need to find a measure of calm, you need to be more than force and power for a moment if we’re to keep this place from crumbling around us._

“They think your magic will leave you, after this,” Gwaine whispers. “ _We_ think there’s nothing so nice as the element of surprise.”

“Right, right.” Merlin reaches back and grips Gwaine’s bare hips, and Gwaine follows his lead, pressing even closer, his cock trapped tight against the curve of Merlin’s arse. “How do you think we should do it, then?”

“I believe buggery is traditional in these sorts of situations.”

“Penetration as the key to removing all of my Druidical powers?” Merlin sighs. “These people obviously have no idea what Druids get up to of an evening.”

Gwaine muffles his snort against Merlin’s hair. “I truly cannot wait for you to show me.”

“ _You_ know I’m not actually a Druid.”

What Gwaine knows is that the Druids are pretty damn convinced that Merlin is their prophet, and the only thing Gwaine has in common with the band of idiots surrounding them is that he tends to think that probably means something. 

Good thing that Merlin chooses that moment to grind back against Gwaine; the grunt that escapes Gwaine when the head of his cock jabs into Merlin’s spine is reason enough not to reply.

“I’ve slicked myself,” Merlin says - _with a spell_ , Gwaine interprets - “so go on. Whenever you’re ready.”

Merlin’s still working his hips, so with every passing second, Gwaine is more and more ready; his cock is starting to throb, a steady, determined pulse at odds with his racing heartbeat. But when he palms Merlin’s cock, it’s not nearly as interested as he’d hoped, and he realises that Merlin still isn’t truly _with_ him; his power is probably still crawling the caves, searching for Arthur, wherever he’s been hidden away.

And that sort of thing’s fine, it’s good, it’s useful, up until the earth begins to shake.

Gwaine would prefer that not happen again. When Merlin had first come to and realised they’d been separated from Arthur, if Gwaine hadn’t been there, if he hadn’t been able to make Merlin hear him, the world would have come to pieces. It had terrified their captors; Gwaine had only the barest grasp of their tongue, but he knew it was why they’d decided on this course of action, and why none of them were brave enough to touch the sorcerer themselves.

Gwaine busies his fingers. He considers himself skilled in the area of bringing Merlin off, but in this test of his abilities, the stakes are starting to feel uncomfortably high, and the usual methods of keeping score elusive. When Gwaine tugs at Merlin’s foreskin, he doesn’t hum in his throat; when he cups his balls, Merlin doesn’t shiver. It’s not until the third time that Gwaine rubs a thumb over Merlin’s slit that Merlin’s cock gives an uncontrolled jerk, and Gwaine’s relief at that hits him right in the knees.

Maybe it’s time for something new. Merlin usually goes for long, slow strokes, but Gwaine speeds up, and is rewarded - _yes_ \- by a short, shocky gasp out of Merlin. He begins teasing his own cock against Merlin’s entrance, pressing against muscle and then pulling away, pressing and pulling away, until finally, finally, Merlin says, “Whenever you’re _ready_ ,” voice breaking gratifyingly on the final word.

Gwaine slips a finger in instead, and when Merlin rocks back, cursing, bites his grin into Merlin’s shoulder.

“Now, now, mustn’t rush,” Gwaine says, and settles in to give Merlin the buggering of his life.

* * *

**36**

Merlin's known around campus as that weird kid who wears hand-knit arm warmers and petitioned the school to serve organic vegetables in the dining commons. He's generally treated as a bit of an oddball, at least until the epidemic hits at the start of senior year.

Merlin's watched enough National Geographic while procrastinating on homework to know that trying to go anywhere with a plague in the air is asking for trouble, so he hunkers down in his apartment with his girlfriend, Freya, and they laugh about the fact that her experiments with canning mean they're probably the only students in town not living off of booze and ramen.

#

A week after the city shuts down, someone bangs on their door. They huddle out of sight, clinging to each other.

"Please," the stranger calls. "I see your candles at night. _Please_. I swear I'm not sick, but the water in my building's been shut off."

Freya's mouth stretches in an expression that could mean anything. Merlin sighs and opens the door to the frat boy neighbor whose raucous parties always ruin Merlin's Friday nights. "Great," Merlin groans, and the look he sends Freya says, _This is your fault_.

#

It's not long before winter's in full swing, and the knitting that Arthur laughed at is the only thing keeping them warm. They ration Freya's spaghetti sauce and huddle together under quilts. Survival has long since trumped any need for personal space.

With the cold comes chapped lips and cracked skin. Freya goes out one morning and comes back with armloads of abandoned thrift store sweaters for Merlin to unravel and repurpose. Two days later, she starts to cough.

"It's just a cold," Merlin pleads while she tries to pull away. "You always get colds in winter."

She locks herself in the bedroom. Merlin begs her to let him in, but gets no answer. He sits against the door all night, listening to her crying, and coughing.

In the morning, he wakes with a blanket tucked around him. The door's still locked. Behind it, all is quiet. Merlin calls Freya's name, then shouts it, pounding his hands bloody until Arthur drags him away.

"Stop this!" He gets in Merlin's face and gives him a violent shake. "She was stronger than this. Now you have to be, too."

 _Was_ makes Merlin sob until he thinks he's broken something inside and will never stop. Arthur brings water and blankets and stands on the other side of the room looking lost.

#

Merlin shivers through the night, too used to sleeping curled against Freya's warmth. Halfway to dawn, he rouses to a muttered, "For Christ's sake," and a wash of cold air under the blankets. He mutters a sleepy protest until a strip of blazing heat presses against his side, and Arthur's arms wrap around his middle.

"There. _Now_ will you sleep?"

Merlin doesn't think it's possible without Freya's coconut-scented hair tangling across the pillow. But the next thing he knows is the glare of the morning sun and Arthur standing over him with a bowl of cold albóndigas soup and a stubborn expression.

Merlin eats because Arthur insists, and afterward, Merlin stares at him and wonders when this spoiled frat boy turned into someone so reliable.

#

When darkness falls and the cold deepens, Arthur slips in beside Merlin without a word. Merlin lets him press close and tries not to feel guilty for enjoying his warmth.

#

This time, morning comes with Arthur still at Merlin's back, the jut of an erection denting his hip. Merlin ought to slip away, but it's nice, and it'll be cold and lonely outside the blankets. He feigns sleep, instead, until Arthur rouses with a murmured, "Merlin?" and his arms tighten across Merlin's chest.

Merlin turns to face him, heart thumping. Arthur's very close and he has morning breath and it's too soon and Merlin shouldn't let this happen and it's fucked and somehow it's necessary.

This time, Arthur's "Merlin?" is a breathless query.

Merlin slides in, face buried against his throat. Arthur's hips flex, a testing thrust. When Merlin doesn't pull away, Arthur's arms wrap him like a vise. "I'm sorry," he breathes against the crown of Merlin's head as their hands trace each other's skin. Heat and breath builds between them until it's easy to forget the cold outside. "I'm so sorry."

It's not love. It isn't even sex, not really. It's solace, and it's a reminder. Even at the end of the world, life goes on.

* * *

**37**

Merlin’s body burned. The air was cool on his sweat soaked skin but it did nothing to sooth the heat that was twisting in his belly. There was a slickness between his thighs as he walked and his nails scratched on the stone walls as he pulled himself down the corridor. He knew where he was going, his scent called to him.

He felt weak and sick, like his body would collapse at any moment. He shouldn’t have gone with Gaius this morning to collect herbs, but he had thought he’d have more time. It had come on suddenly and strongly.

“Arthur,” he gasped as he pushed his way into the Prince’s room breathing him in.

Arthur turned to him, eyes widening as he took in his current state. He was already rushing to Merlin’s side, arms pulling him close.“Merlin why didn’t you…”

“I didn’t know.” Merlin babbles closing his eyes as Arthur’s scent surrounded him, the fire in his body raging brighter as their skin touched. “I didn’t know, I thought we’d have more time. “ Time to prepare, but it had hit him hard and Merlin could already feel his heart trying to tear it’s way out of his chest. It hurt and it burned and he just _needed_.

“Sssh,” Arthur’s pressed his lips against Merlin’s neck and pulled him towards the bed, tugging off Merlin’s shirt as he went. His hands trailed down Merlin’s sides and Merlin whimpered. 

Arthur set Merlin on the bed, pulled down his trousers. Hands gripped his wet thighs, pulling them apart and bending his knees. Arthur’s fingers circled his pucker, two fingers pushing in easily and Merlin moaned, needing to be pull.

Arthur pulled back and quickly shed his clothes, covering Merlin’s body with his own. “Never again,” he whispered hotly into the skin of Merlin’s neck as he pressed his cock against Merlin, pressing in into the slickness that was there for him. “You reckless idiot, I could have lost you.” He stopped holding back and sank his teeth into Merlin’s neck as he pounded into his body. 

It happened, sometimes omega’s wouldn’t get to an alpha in time during their heat and their hearts would give out on them. Sudden heats where rare but had stolen the life of more than one omega, it’s why the alpha’s stayed close when they found theirs. 

Merlin shivered, his body burning with a different fire now and Arthur grew inside of him, locking them together. 

They drifted, pressed closely together. Arthur turned them so we was pressed up close behind Merlin, still locked in him as he emptied himself into his omega. Merlin couldn’t keep his eyes open, feeling exhaustion drag him down his body crashing in relief. There was a knock at the door and Merlin felt Arthur shift, his voice a low murmur as he told a servant to his father know he would be unavailable for the next few days.

Sometimes a heat could last up to a week, and this one had already started off bad. Arthur wouldn’t leave Merlin’s side until it had ran it’s course.

* * *

**38**

“Arthur, I don’t have time to explain; you need to fuck me _right now_.”

Before noon, Mid-Summer’s day, it was already hotter than Arthur could ever remember it being.

“You know I like you but, no. Gwen’d kill me.”

“Not today.”

“What _are_ you babbling about?”

“Arthur, if you don’t spill your seed inside me within the next twenty minutes, what happened to Camelot after you shot the unicorn will look like a candle beside a fire-storm.”

“If I don’t _fuck_ you, _right now_ , Camelot is doomed?”

“Every living thing.”

“Merlin, what the fuck?!”

“No time to explain! Now, for the love of Camelot, strip!”

Merlin’s belt was off and his tunic was going as he uttered his command. Despite the fact that both knew he could annihilate Arthur without a word, Merlin rarely issued demands. He didn’t act the fool anymore but did remain relatively respectful of Arthur’s position. 

Merlin’s eyes began slowly swirling gold. Arthur’d never seen them like that, they’d always been a clear, ocean blue or they glowed, brightly incandescent.

“Don’t ask now. Promise, I’ll explain later.”

His earnest expression made Arthur capitulate. Swallowing hard, he removed his belt watching Merlin bend to unbuckle his boots. He swallowed again, staring at the curve of that pert little arse. They’d never spoken of it, _never_ but he’d always been aware of Merlin, always craved him but learned long ago to govern his desire. Nothing physical between them could last and he needed Merlin far too much to destroy everything with an affair. However, the attraction never went away.

His tunic blinded him coming off; when he could see again, Merlin was nude and heading toward Arthur to help him undress. Hard cock bobbing before him, he paused glancing over his shoulder at the sun slanting steeply through the window. Turning back, urgency seemingly doubled, he pushed Arthur toward the bed until the back of his knees struck and he fell back on the mattress.

Hands, nimble from years of practice, had Arthur unlaced faster than he could manage himself then Merlin went to his knees, taking Arthur’s breeches with him. He tugged each leg hard enough to take off the boot below. Rising, he pushed the King further back on the bed before straddling his legs.

Arthur’s arousal soared at being manhandled. Who knew he had a kink for getting rough? He’d never allowed it before. Merlin muttered, eyes flaring with familiar brightness before subsiding to swirling gold again.

Without another word Merlin bent in half with a display of flexibility that startled an excited gasp from Arthur. Cock harder than he could ever remember, he yelped as Merlin’s full lips engulfed him and began sliding up and down his hardened length. It was the sloppiest blow-job he’d ever received. Merlin drooled all over his cock, hot liquid pooling at the base and pouring over his sensitive balls. 

The reason for the slickness became apparent when Merlin uncoiled from his crouch, rose on his knees and impaled himself on Arthur’s spit-slicked cock. He immediately began to rise and fall at a relentless pace that had Arthur shouting in shocked ecstasy. Fantasizing what Merlin might feel like squeezed around his flesh couldn’t compare to reality. It was, like Merlin, _fucking magical_.

Clenched hard around him, each stroke dragged against Arthur with incredible friction despite the saliva lubricating his cock. His balls tightened too quickly; he knew he wasn’t going to last. However, it was Merlin’s stated intention to swiftly get Arthur’s seed inside him, so he didn’t try to hold on. Head thrown back, groaning helplessly, he let go, exploding inside the heated flesh gripping him tight.

Gasping, “Thank gods!” Merlin reached for himself, just a few strokes had him spilling over Arthur’s chest. Collapsing, he flattened Arthur to the mattress. Minutes passed as they lay dripping with cum, panting, shaking, coming down from the frantic coupling.

“Gonna explain now?”

“Um, I was a little late in realizing the century was turning.”

“Century turned months ago, why the urgency? And why did it necessitate me _fucking_ you?”

“Every hundred years, on Mid-Summer’s Day, before the sun reaches its zenith, the King must renew the land’s fertility by blessing the chosen receptacle with his seed or the realm will waste like the Perilous lands.”

“ _You’re_ the chosen receptacle?” 

“Albion’s most powerful priest of the Old Religion, so yeah, _me._ ”

Arthur thought a moment before wrapping an arm around Merlin’s waist, pulling him closer.

“Thank gods it wasn’t Morgana!”

* * *

**39**

Gwaine jumped as the door opened. He crouched behind some pallets, holding his breath as he listened to the intruder. 

He crept forward and peered around. The guy looked human, not healthy, but alive underneath the grime. The guy looked around, scavenging, and Gwaine knew he’d find Gwaine’s meagre stash of supplies before long. He couldn’t afford to lose them, so he stood up. 

“Hey.” 

The man swirled around, eyes wide with panic. Gwaine held up his hands. 

“Just wanted to let you know that’s my stuff, and you can keep your hands off it.” 

“Oh.” The guy looked at a loss. “Ok. Alright. Can I at least kip here tonight?”

Gwaine approached the man – he was tall, with unkempt wavy blonde hair, and a beard. 

“Gwaine.” He said, offering a hand.

“Leon.” The man said, looking down at the hand as if he’d not seen one before. He reached out and clasped it hesitantly. Gwaine’s skin tingled at the contact – it had been a long time since he’d seen another human alive, never mind shaken their hand. 

###

Leon was quiet, which suited Gwaine just fine. He didn’t ask about Gwaine’s past, didn’t offer his own story. He just made himself useful and then ran through some stretches every afternoon. 

“Yoga?” Gwaine asked, watching Leon bend over and touch his toes. 

“Yes. It helps.” Leon said, “with the nightmares.” And continued his movements. Gwaine just grunted, and carried on sharpening his knife.

###

“Teach me.” Gwaine said, one morning. His eyes were aching and his throat scratchy from lack of sleep. He was fed up of Leon’s pitying eyes and offers to take more watch whenever he woke up fighting off his blankets, sometimes slicing them with the knife he slept with. Leon’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ of shock, before nodding. 

“First, breathing.”

“I can do that – I’m good at that.” Gwaine tried to lighten the situation. 

“Yeah, but you’re doing it wrong.” Leon pressed his hands against Gwaine’s stomach. 

“You need to use your stomach – try to spread my hands.” Gwaine tried to focus on that – not the warmth of Leon’s fingers, the feel of his breath on Gwaine’s face. 

### 

Gwaine supposed it was bound to happen, lying on the makeshift bed with Leon’s blonde hair tickling his chin. 

It had started with an attack Gwaine had jumped awake when a hand touched his shoulder. Leon was right in front of him, finger to his lips. In the distance, Gwaine heard the shuffle-grunt that mean whatevers were on the prowl. 

They had grabbed their weapons and waited. The shuffling got closer, accompanied by the clatter of things being knocked over. Gwaine stayed still, heart thumping loudly. Months ago, he would’ve thrown himself out there, baying for blood. Now he stood ready, but waiting. 

They had broken the door down. Gwaine swung his knife. Once he made the first blow he’d lost the element of surprise and they were ready for it, attempting to claw and bite at him. He was aware of Leon coming up behind him swinging what turned out to be a claw hammer. 

Between them they had managed to fend them off, shutting the door and dragging whatever they could to make a barricade. Gwaine had been glad once again that the room had windows too small to crawl through.

Leon had been splattered in blood, panting like he’d run miles. Gwaine could feel something dripping down the side of his face. There was a moment of tense quiet and then they moved together, grabbing at each other, biting at lips and necks. 

It was violent, overlaid with fear and left over adrenaline. They’d rutted together – Gwaine pressed uncomfortably against a pallet. Gwaine grunted as he came, jerking against Leon. Leon had followed him with a gasp. 

Gwaine’s legs had all but given out at that point and he and Leon crawled to the pile of dirty sheets that made the bed. 

They’d never slept at the same time before and it took a while for Gwaine to unbend and for Leon to curl around him.

“We’ll have to move.” Leon offered. They knew the hiding place now, and it wasn’t safe. 

“Yeah,” Gwaine said, mind focused on the ‘we’. Like it was a given. Gwaine assumed it was, for the moment. “Out of the city, first light tomorrow.”

* * *

**40**

Merlin trembles under his hands. He’s almost completely obscured in darkness and Arthur can only see the faint outlines of his face now that his eyes have adjusted to the near pitch black room. Running one hand over the smooth skin of Merlin’s chest, he lets his fingers follow the long expanse of neck before he comes to cup the face he wishes he could see. The sharp longing makes him push into Merlin almost angrily and he feels Merlin’s jaw work under the strain of keeping quiet. 

He remembers a time when he’d lay Merlin down on their bed, kissing his way down and down until Merlin pulled at his hair. Deliberately taking his time, Arthur would kiss the inside of his thighs and the jut of his hipbone, the tip of his tongue fluttering softly until Merlin would say _Arthur_ in a way that was meant to be berating, but came out as a breathy moan instead. And Arthur would smile and wrap his lips around the head of Merlin’s cock, swirling his tongue in the way that made Merlin writhe against the sheets, his hips pressing up into Arthur’s touch. 

The memory makes Arthur slow his rhythm, wrapping an arm around Merlin to push him closer as he gives a slow, almost tender, thrust. Oddly, or perhaps not oddly at all, this is what makes Merlin lose control of the silence they so desperately try to cling to. He whimpers softly, his fingers digging into Arthur’s back, and Arthur buries his face into Merlin’s neck, pressing a soothing kiss to damp skin. 

“Ssh,” he whispers and even the small hiss of sound makes them both tense. 

They know the guards are out there, that the small room Merlin’s magic had created in the wall under the pretense of doing maintenance on it can easily be discovered and they’d both be worse than dead. It’s always like this – this hurried, silent meeting that’s just enough to scratch the itch, but never _enough_. Pressing his lips to Merlin’s jaw, Arthur tries not to let the anger at the situation ruin another one of their rare moments. He holds Merlin tightly to him, quickening his rhythm until he’s so close to forgetting everything but the feeling of shuddering breaths against his ear and having Merlin under him, around him, kissing him until it seems entirely possible that they could crawl into each other and stay there. 

Merlin comes quietly, shuddering and arching up into Arthur’s chest, their kiss breaking. It’s too dark to see, but Arthur can imagine the way Merlin’s lips part, his breath coming in trembling sighs. Arthur tries to remember how Merlin would shout his name, moan, keen, and swear – always swear. There’s something breathtaking in the way Merlin just shudders quietly, but Arthur misses the way his name would sound on Merlin’s lips when he came. He tries to recall it as his body tenses with relief, muffling his soft moan against Merlin’s shoulder. 

When he finally lifts his head, Merlin’s fingers slip into his hair, pulling him close until their lips are barely touching. 

“I wish I could see you,” Arthur whispers in a voice that is barely there, muffled against Merlin’s lips. 

The fingers in his hair rub softly against his scalp: soothing, familiar patterns. “You will,” Merlin mouths back. “Soon. Morgana’s working on it.”

Arthur wishes he could believe it. He wishes he could believe that the magic camp will figure out a way to break their separation, because his camp seems to be fighting a losing battle. 

“Tell us if you need help. Diversions,” he says, trying to keep his words as succinct and quiet as possible. 

Merlin nods, pauses a little and Arthur can feel his eyes on him even in the dark. “It will work. I promise.” Merlin’s words are pressed to his lips like a kiss and Arthur lets himself smile.

* * *

**41**

Two generations past, the world ended in a battle lost to dragonsbreath and witchfire and the flint-flame at the hand of Man unwilling to bow to either side. Cities decimated, homesteads burned, society sundered from civilized law and freedom for all until all that was left was a sort of Wild West justice and survival of the fittest.

During every hard year of Arthur Pendragon's life, there were whispers of a saviour, a man who could bend the dragons to his will and shatter sorcerous curses with a wave of his hand. And every year, the skies remained dark with dragons, the land continued to be tormented with black magic, and a heart once full of hope died a little more.

Then, one day, Arthur learned that the man had a name.

_Emrys._

The name alone stirred a yearning long believed gone. It plagued Arthur's dreams. Night after night, he would wake drenched in sweat and drowning with desire, his cock so hard and aching that he knew he'd never find true release until he had Emrys around him, moaning in ecstasy.

Arthur's father forbade him from undertaking this fruitless search, and fruitless it was. Hovel after hovel of human habitation. The last reaches of rebellion, starved and mad. Sorcerer's cities where he had to skulk in shadows lest he be found out. Passage through dragon fiefs at twilight and sunrise when their senses were slow and sluggish. Not once had he left any place without needing to fight his way out. 

He was running short of ammunition. His strength was flagging. His faith was fading. But he was too far from home to give up now.

There were eyes on him as he walked through the makeshift main street of yet another ramshackle village. The first kid he caught squirmed and kicked and bit, but when Arthur asked, "Blacksmith?", the kid pointed a finger and was rewarded with freedom.

The smithy was suffocating with welcome heat against the perpetual chill. There was a blaze of billows, of fire lashing and licking like dragonsbreath. There was the steady, rhythmic pound of hammer and the popping hiss of steaming water tempering steel. There was a man in front of the forge, his shoulders broad, his body lean, short black hair in damp, unruly spikes. He wore no apron to cover a sinewy torso, no gloves to protect his hands from the scorching heat. His skin glistened with soot and grease and sweat, every smear highlighting whipcord strength. The muscles in his back rippled with every heft of the hammer, went taut with every strike. The curve of his spine trailed down to a firm ass barely covered by leather pants hanging desperately on narrow hips.

Arthur's mouth went dry at the sight of him. 

The man tossed his work in the quenching trough. "What do you want?"

His voice was a low, low rumble, like a sleepy dragon awakening. Arthur swallowed hard. He knew better than to ask for ammunition in a place like this -- every bullet was worth a daughter's dowry. Instead, he said, "I've a splint in my sword."

"Give it here, then."

The man left his hammer on the table. He pulled the black goggles from his eyes to study the blade. "A few hours of work. You can pay?"

Arthur froze at those bright, beautiful blue eyes, those sharp cheekbones, those red, full lips. He knew them from his dreams.

_Emrys._

"I can pay," Arthur said, but his hand didn't drift toward the cut brass he had hidden on his person. Instead, his eyes followed the trail of fine black hair down the blacksmith's chest. 

"I take payment up front."

When Arthur looked up, Emrys wore a small smirk on his lips and his head was tilted toward a door.

Arthur was so aroused that he could barely walk to follow Emrys to a small, back room with little else but a cot and a wash bowl. He was on his knees with Emrys against the wall, leather breeches tugged down around his thighs, Emrys' cock already angry and red and aching for release, before either of them could change their minds.

"Fuck, you're really gagging for it, aren't you?" Emrys' eyes were a blue so black they gleamed, and Arthur thought he saw a glimmer of gold before Emrys grabbed his hair and _yanked_ , guiding Arthur toward his cock.

_For you. Only for you._

Arthur swallowed him down.

* * *

**42**

“The Fence” kept the wasteland and its mutated horrors at bay and yet Uther’s obsession over “ _Reclaiming the Earth!_ ” had caused him to ignore the bigger picture. Arthur’s decision to hand the City Marshal’s position to Morgana was almost entirely because of his father's preoccupation with war, and the determination to see that something would survive it besides walking corpses.

 

So now he taught History and Survival to children while his father created a genetically altered humans into an army that was immune to infection. A secret army of powerful and highly distracting people like Merlin who just showed up one day at Arthur’s shelter and never left. Unlike the other felinoid soldiers his slitted eyes were dual colored, one gold and one blue, rather than green. He was the most territorial, cheerful, and dedicatedly protective bastard Arthur had ever had the misfortune to meet.

 

“Merlin!” Arthur hissed furiously. “How did the horde get past the Fence and just _**what**_ are they doing so far into the city?” A shadow detached from the corner to stalk forward with casual grace.

 

“Cenred has a research facility nearby. He’s claimed to be able to handle its spilled milk.” Merlin answered lazily. That _would_ explain things...

 

Arthur gave a resigned sigh. “Yes, alright then. Go ahead.”

….. _Later_.....

Arthur’s patrol of the perimeter eventually took him to a storage room where he found Merlin washing the blood from his naked body, a playful expression on his face. He managed to get the door shut and locked behind him before the felinoid is on him, backing him against the wall while fingers squeezed and dug teasingly into his hips.

 

“I killed them. I killed them all and left your crest on the wall in their blood.” Merlin preened.

 

“Christ!” Arthur groaned, head tilted back and exasperated. “Cenred isn’t going to take that well.”

 

“Arthur,” Merlin interrupted, voice honey dark and so _very_ pleased with himself. “I missed you.”

 

Merlin’s mouth glided along the length of his throat where his bottom lip caught and dragged against the sensitive flesh there. Arthur couldn’t help but shiver at the gentle gust of breath across the slightly damp skin. There was a pleased rumble and then he was being nuzzled as a wet mouth and tiny fangs nipped at the curve of his jaw.

 

“No you didn’t.” Arthur muttered, distracted. He was hypnotized by the glint of hooped metal in the top of Merlin’s delicately pointed ear. Sometimes It was hard to remember that Merlin really was still a man, and not actually a giant cat.

 

Merlin’s teasing grip was suddenly firm on his thighs and Arthur’s spread open, lifted so his legs rested against his hips, and flush against the heat and compact strength of the felinoids body. His surprised exclamation is caught in a lazy kiss that set his body writhing against Merlin’s and had his cock filling in slow, hot pulses against the rough cloth of his cargo pants.

 

“Of course I missed you.” Merlin crooned. “I always miss you. You’re _mine/i >.”_

 

Arthur scoffed but there was no denying how utterly pliant he was in Merlin’s arms, or how easily he’s manipulated by the man. It’s downright embarrassing how much Merlin’s got away with in the time they’ve known each other. Arthur’s pants were already open and sliding down and the stone wall cold and uncomfortable where it scraped against his bare skin. Merlin continued to purr nonsense in his ear and his hands kneaded at the plump curve of Arthur’s arse, at least until his fingers encountered the slick wetness there. Merlin stilled and fell silent, pushed Arthur tight against the wall and brought one hand up to eye level so they both could see the liquid gleaming on his suddenly extended claws.

 

Arthur watched his pupils narrow into thin, black slits before the claw ripped, and rent the cloth between them until the thick fabric hung in tattered shreds around his legs. He was caught in the unnatural focus of Merin’s gaze with barely enough time to brace before he was being pressed open by the thick, blunt pressure of Merlin’s cock.

 

“ _Fuck!_ ” Arthur knew it’d be like this, he _needed_ it like this. Always.

* * *

**43**

Merlin arched his body, half screaming, half sobbing, as the pain tore through him one more time. Arthur was above him. He could feel the heat – the scorching, _blistering_ heat – radiating off of his body, soaking into his very skin and making the air too thick to breathe.

“Shh,” Arthur murmured, his lips pressed to Merlin’s ear, and Merlin flinched. He scrabbled at the dirt as Arthur’s fingers dragged across his flesh, removing his clothing. “I’ve got you, Merlin. Just hold on.”

This, all of this, the hypersensitivity, the raw _power_ boiling up in him, overflowing the boundary of his physical body – he should have listened to Arthur. He shouldn’t have touched the crystal. _He knew better._

But he had, and then she had appeared, a transparent figure dressed in white, telling him things about power and amplifier and devastation and that dreadful, unfamiliar word: _Armageddon._

“You have to get the power out,” Arthur said above him, rolling him over onto his stomach. Merlin cried out when the tender skin of him stomach and his cock brushed against the too dry, too sharp leaves on the forest floor. “She said you had to get it out. I’m sorry, Merlin. I’m so so sorry.”

Merlin cried, then, a sob torn from his raw throat, but he nodded and gripped the loose dirt under his fingertips as hard as he could, pressing his face into the ground and hoping the pain would help distract him, because he knew the pain hadn’t really begun.

And then it did. Arthur – beautiful, noble Arthur – took the worst of it away. Merlin knew this. Arthur stretched him and slicked him. He stroked him until he was so hard he wished to die, and then Arthur spread him and pushed inside.

It hurt too much, his inner walls being pressed like that, and he tried to scream but he didn’t think any sound came out. As bad as the pain was, however, he could feel something happening. The more Arthur fucked him, the more something seemed to drag out of him.

“Are you all right?” Arthur asked, breathless. His thrusts didn’t slow, but he lifted Merlin’s hips a bit and slid a hand under to wrap around his prick. “Merlin, talk to me. Please.”

It was the _please_ that did it. He’d never heard Arthur say it, and he nodded frantically. “More,” he said. “Arthur, don’t stop.”

Arthur pressed his lips to the back of Merlin’s neck, then began pounding, creating a desperate friction, a push and pull, and Merlin could feel that horrible, _poisonous_ power inside him fading, leeching into Arthur, through Arthur, into the ground, the air…it was being pulled out of him and he could breathe. The ground no longer felt too rough, Arthur’s cock no longer painful.

“Yes,” he hissed out, canting his hips and allowing Arthur deeper.

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” Arthur gasped as he slid in, his balls pressing between Merlin’s legs. Merlin could feel him inside, filling him until everything felt right and perfect.

And then they were both coming, slipping over the edge and gasping and crying in pleasure.

Arthur pulled out when he came back to himself. “I’m sorry, Merlin,” he said, and Merlin realized there were tears dripping onto his back. “Oh, gods, I’m so sorry.”

When Arthur tried to stand, Merlin reached out and grabbed his wrist, pulling him back down. He curled around Arthur, pressing his face into Arthur’s neck and inhaling, breathing in the scent of metal and sweat and sex.

“No,” he said. He felt Arthur relax, marginally, and curl towards him. “Thank you.”

“Don’t do that again.”

Merlin shook his head. His body was still trembling and it was too much to speak, but Arthur seemed to understand. 

“Sleep,” he said. 

Merlin closed his eyes and drifted off. He lay in Arthur’s arms and dreamt of golden love.

* * *

**44**

Fall-Out

“Let her go.” 

Gwen was panicked, scared and trying not to show it and Lancelot was a lot like a knight on a white horse. Her dress mess and there was a hand print in mud around her throat and she’d never felt less like a princess. 

Raiders were the worst kind of people, rape, murder, cannibalism, and the occasional bout of selling people into slavery when they needed more caps for **jet** to feed the addiction. 

There was a howl and one of the men screamed falling to the ground his gun going off in a _pop pop pop_ of automatic .22 shot. Merlin tore his throat out with his fangs. The green arc of Excalibur, Arthur’s side arm, slammed into one of the men’s chest and the smell of burning flesh filled the bright afternoon. The man holding her dropped his guard to reach for a better weapon and Gwen had his knife out of his hand and buried in his lungs. 

Before Morgana found the name ‘Gwen’ in a charred children’s book her name had simply been ‘Fetch’ because she wandered around collecting scrap for her father. Sometimes she would slip up and do something unlady-like despite all of Morgana’s tutelage. Daintily Gwen stepped out of the way of most of the blood, leaving the knife in his lungs to keep it from spraying on her skirts. The roar of Lancelot’s .45 was deafening. 

“Are you okay?” Arthur asked her, even as frowned as Merlin nosed one of the corpses over, muzzle stained with blood and catching the edge of some medicine between his teeth, shaking his great head until it came free of the dead Raider’s pocket. Lancelot didn’t share Arthur’s distaste, pocketing the loot with a small smile for Merlin’s efforts. 

“Fine.” Gwen gave a little curtsey. 

They set off again. Three months ago Morgana had babbled something out dragons and wandered off into the dessert. 

In the dessert the nights were as cold as the days hot. The Rad-Scorpions were kept at bay by the fire. The constant radioactive haze blocked the sky but Gwen had seen a much coveted photo of the stars that Morgana had shown her, they always seemed to reflect in her eyes. Arthur was curled up tight against Merlin. Arthur hated Merlin’s hound form but Merlin preferred it, Gwen knew his human form, he was rail thin and knobby like a youth but eyes as old as the sands around New Vegas. Gwen believed him when he said he saw the end of the world in both future and past tense. 

“She’ll like you.” Gwen said, kissing Lancelot’s neck, smoothing over his beard with her cheek and mouthing at his lips. “My knight.” He gripped her hips as she sat on him and hummed low in his chest. It rumbled through her delightfully. 

“I’m sure I’ll treasure her too.” Lancelot mumbled against her lips. Gwen wanted that, her Lady and her Knight and their King and his Pet. 

Merlin raised his head, eyes glowing eerie-gold in the firelight but he didn’t move and Arthur didn’t stir. Lancelot stopped but Gwen smiled at Merlin, turning back to lift one of Lancelot’s hands to her breasts. They had just found him and he didn’t quite understand yet. 

“It’s okay.” Gwen crooned; biting his lips as his fingers hesitantly fondled her through her dress. She was willing to show him how things worked. 

It took some rearranging, shifting herself up on him so he could mouth at a nipple as she undid his pants around the gun holsters. Despite his reluctance he was hard. He gave a muffled whine when she toyed with the slit with just the ends of her fingers letting the calluses from metal work catch and drag. The rocks bit into her knees when she lowered herself on him. The rush of friction, of being filled made her gasp softly, breathing shallow and just feeling. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Lancelot gasped against her throat, kissing the edge of one of the bruises the Raider had left when he caught her. “Gwen.”

They rocked together in the firelight as Arthur slept and Merlin watched, muffling gasps and whines against each other’s mouths. Gwen came with a shiver that shot down her spine and made her moan shoving down hard. Lancelot’s eyes went wide, feet shifting against the ground as he desperately tried to push up into her. 

She stole his voice with a kiss and he groaned against her.

* * *

**45**

By the time Merlin arrives, Camelot is empty, save for the ashes, and the charred, skeletal remains of houses and shops. Even the castle in the distance is a ruin, a dry, burnt out husk, a monument to its dead king.

"We'll be safer here; the fires are out, and it looks deserted." Merlin unlaces his pack and smiles to hear a tiny chirp from inside, then to see a little white head peek out around the edge. "Maybe it'll even rain soon, Aithusa."

To make up for the long journey hidden inside the pack, Merlin lets the baby dragon play. Aithusa hops from Merlin's lap to the ground, attempting to fly, and hops back up, undefeated, until he's tired enough to curl against Merlin.

"If there's danger, try to fly away, or hide," Merlin reminds Aithusa before he falls asleep.

*

"Was this your home?"

Merlin wakes with a cough and finds himself at the wrong end of a very sharp sword.

"Was it? Wake up and tell me." The boy holding the sword doesn't look much older than Merlin, maybe some dead knight's squire, just at the brink of knighthood himself; his expression softens when Merlin coughs again. "I'm guessing no, or you'd be used to sleeping in the ashes."

"It's not; I'm sorry, we--I needed to rest." He looks around in a panic and sighs with relief to feel the gentle rise and fall of Aithusa's breathing inside his pack. 

"We?" The boy slides his sword back into its sheath and steps back from Merlin. A fine layer of ash blurs his appearance, but the gold of his hair, the blue of his eyes, and the fine line of his profile are unmistakable.

Merlin's found the prince, but he's found him too late.

*

"The spells broke as soon as my father died. He always believed he kept the dragons in check, not magic. I suppose he was right." Arthur stops on the dusty path up to the castle and tugs at the leather thong around his neck. "Nobody recognizes me. I grew up in Tintagel."

"I watched the priestesses scrying, I've seen you." Merlin stares for a moment and fingers the outline of the great dragon on Arthur's signet ring. "If only I could've been here sooner, if my father could've come, too."

"The dragonlords." Arthur steals away Merlin's chance to reveal his secret; when Merlin lets Aithusa peer out of his pack, he offers his hand to hold the dragon. "Can this little one really help save us? He's tiny."

"He's called Aithusa. And, yes." 

*

"Why are you here?" Arthur's shoulder nudges against Merlin's. They're sleeping in the queen's apartments, moonlight slanting through the windows onto their pile of blankets on the floor. 

Merlin rubs his bare foot against Arthur's, shifts so their legs touch from hip to ankle, relishes the feeling of Arthur's strong, lean body next to his. "The countyside is wasted. The villages, the fields… Aithusa hatched after the dragonfire destroyed Ealdor, but nobody would understand that he's too young to cause such destruction." 

"You could've gone anywhere. You've been to the Isle of the Blessed. We might not even survive here." 

Merlin turns to his side and skims his fingers up Arthur's chest. He doesn't want anything more than to touch Arthur, to feel his skin and steady heartbeat, but then Arthur frowns. His brow knits together and his mouth turns down, and all Merlin can think of doing in that moment is to press his mouth to Arthur's. 

The kiss is dry and awkward until Arthur yields with a sigh and parts his lips. Warmth blooms inside Merlin, unfolding inside his stomach and reaching through him to urge him closer and closer to Arthur. 

Arthur flushes as he fumbles at Merlin's breeches, his fingers clumsy with the first rush of want. 

"We don't--" Merlin says, tries to stop Arthur, tries to stop himself.

But Arthur only says "we do, we do," his breath and his hands hot on Merlin's skin.

*

Merlin wakes up to a pale, chilly dawn and the sound of rain pattering against the castle walls and onto the dust and ash outside. 

Arthur stands at a window, Aithusa perched on his shoulder, and turns when he hears Merlin stir. 

"You are my king," Merlin says and takes his place next to Arthur to watch the rain fall over Camelot.

* * *

**46**

“Let me in Merlin, we need to talk,” Arthur’s voice implored, muffled through the thick wood of the front door. 

Merlin sank to the floor, his back against the foyer wall as he stared ahead sightlessly.

“Go away Arthur,” he replied unsteadily, “I’m sick of looking at your face.”

“That is a complete and utter lie and you know it,” Arthur complained. Merlin would bet everything he owned that Arthur had rolled his eyes in exasperation just then. “If we’re to face battle tomorrow, I want to do it knowing that we’re alright.”

“I’m not letting you in Arthur.”

“Why not?” he asked. “Morgana has raised the dead! Skeleton armies are wreaking havoc across all of Albion. Immortal soldiers are bringing parliament down to its knees,” there was a desperate edge to Arthur's voice; “It feels like half the world is burning, people are calling it the end of days.”

“End of Days?” Merlin laughed mockingly, “It sounds like a Tuesday afternoon to me.” Merlin could feel himself breaking apart as he laughed, his tone becoming slightly hysterical. He took a deep breath before angling his head to look at the door. “I can’t see you Arthur,” he stated, “Not if you’re going to disappear for another 70 years. It hurts too much.”

\------

The next thing Merlin knew his door was slamming open and Arthur was crowding him against his foyer wall, kissing him over and over like breathing was a foreign concept that had no place in creating space between them.

Merlin gripped Arthur’s golden hair and pulled him closer, panting as those sinful lips pulled away from his own to leave a trail of spine tingling kisses down the sensitive curve of his neck.

“Is this a good idea?” Merlin questioned, as Arthur tugged him further into the flat, fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

“With me this is always a good idea,” Arthur muttered, abandoning the futile challenge of stripping whilst walking in favour of pressing his heavy erection against Merlin's, grinding them against each other in a rhythm of mutual pleasure. 

Merlin moaned into Arthur’s mouth, arms encircled around his neck as he pushed his body nearer, an unconscious flash of his eyes loosening their clothes enough for them to be shed quickly from their bodies.

“Handy,” Arthur chuckled into Merlin's ear before bending him over the couch to press his tongue against Merlin's opening. The only thing still left on his body; his boots. 

\------

“Stay here, with me, just for a little bit longer,” Merlin pleaded as he watched Arthur dress, broad shoulders bathed in the faint light of dawn.

If it wasn’t for the unnatural quietness of the city below, Merlin could have even fooled himself into believing it was a lazy Sunday morning. Instead the absence of birdsong and regular Sunday traffic created an atmosphere of sustained tension, as if the city itself was waiting for an explosion of violence to tear through its heart.

Arthur shook his head slightly as grappled with his snug leather costume, the ostentatious red and gold of the Captain Albion uniform searing offensively into Merlins retinas. He had thought the uniform was stupid the first time he’d seen it a lifetime ago; not much had changed with time.

Merlin smiled to himself bitterly. “That’s right, Captain Albion off to save the world again,” the harshness in his voice froze Arthur in his tracks. “Just do me a favour, yeah?” Merlin continued, “Don’t promise me you’ll be coming back, because we both know how that turns out.”

Arthur clenched his teeth fiercely causing the muscle in his jaw to tick, his entire body coiling in preparation for hostility.  
“Albion needs us today _Emrys_ ,” Arthur bit out into the hush. “Percy may be a demigod and Lance might be a giant rage monster, but they won’t be able to fight Morgana alone. Someone needs to protect Camelot and the people that are still left here.”

 _Emrys_. Arthur used the moniker like an insult, disrespectful of the persona that Merlin had adopted to hide himself from the public and Arthur alike. 

“You were gone a long time Arthur,” Merlin stated resentfully, “A lot changes in 70 years.”

“It wasn’t just 70 years Merlin,” Arthur said turning his face away from view, “It was 70 years and 9 months and 3 days.” 

Merlin took a deep shuddering breath in surprise, his whole body tensing as if waiting for a physical blow.

“And those last 9 months… they were your fault.”

* * *

**47**

“We can’t continue like this, Sire,” Gaius said, setting fresh wet cloth on Arthur’s feverish brow.

“Magic has no place in my kingdom, Gaius, and you very well know that,” Uther said.

“They’ll both die. And probably take all of us with them.”

“It’s just one night,” Uther said.

“It’s solstice, Sire. The powers of nature are on their highest. Magic of the land roams free. The prophecy of the once and future king and his warlock speaks clearly. On the twenty fifth summer solstice of warlock’s life, he will be bound to his king.”

“The bindings cut him off his magic.”

“He can’t use it, yes, but it calls to him still,” Gaius said. 

The ground trembled under their feet and Arthur stirred, moaning Merlin’s name. He was trying to open his eyes, tugging at the restraints around his wrists and ankles. 

“I can’t give him more of the potion. It could kill him,” Gaius said.

They could see lightning through the tightly closed windows, thunder rumbling almost constantly. The door to the adjacent chamber burst open and gut-wrenching cry went through. The whole castle shook. A vase fell from the table, shattering on the ground.

“Merlin,” Arthur called, fully awake now.

He took in his situation, fighting his bindings until the one holding his right wrist snapped. Uther caught the hand, pressing it against the mattress. 

“It will pass, son,” Uther was saying. “Just a few more hours.”

“Merlin,” Arthur gasped, new beads of sweat trailing down his face. “I need...”

His hips bucked up and the thin sheet covering his body did nothing to mask his arousal.

All the windows crashed open, letting in the wild wind and pouring rain. Another agonized cry came from the other room and Gaius left to check on his traitorous ward.

“Merlin,” Arthur cried out, ripping his hand from his father’s grasp and lifting himself up a bit before Uther used his weight to push him back down again.

One of his legs was bleeding from where the bindings cut into his skin, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“Father, please, he needs me,” Arthur pleaded. “I love him,” he shouted over the sound of thunder.

“It’s just the magic talking,” Uther said, running his fingers through his son’s hair.

“I gave him my mother’s ring two months ago,” Arthur said, desperation shining through his eyes. “I’ve loved him for years.”

Uther’s grip faltered.

Ygraine’s ring.

The ring he gave her.

The ring she pressed to Arthur’s small palm with her last breath.

He looked down at his son, Ygraine’s features so clear in his face, his eyes full of devotion and longing.

There was no other choice but to let go.

~x~

Arthur stumbled through the room into the next, quickly climbing on the bed where Merlin was lying, deathly pale and barely breathing. Gaius handed him the key to the shackles around Merlin’s wrists and ankles and then backed out of the room.

The moment last shackle hit the floor, Merlin’s eyes flew open, flaring gold. Both of their clothes dissolved into nothing and Arthur was forcefully flipped on his back. Before he could process anything, Merlin was lowering himself on his cock.

The moment he was fully seated, everything went completely quiet. No wind or rain, no lightning and thunder.

The gold from Merlin’s eyes was slowly fading, giving way to the familiar shade of blue.

“i love you,” Merlin whispered, leaning down to kiss Arthur on the lips.

~x~

Their lovemaking was slow and sensuous, languid climb to the peak of pleasure, unhurried touches and exploring kisses.

“Forever,” Merlin whispered into Arthur’s ear right before they both reached their orgasm.

Gold of Merlin’s magic washed over them both, leaving behind a link that could not be broken.

“Forever,” Arthur whispered back.

* * *

**48**

Arthur is a Gen+. It means: he’s a soldier, lacks the “magic” genetics, is authorised to make routine excavations into space.

He was a child prodigy, so smart his father feared he’d be used up. He remembers the relief in his father’s eyes after he’d gotten tested, came back sterile. He’s not afforded the pretense of society as allotted to civilians, and the other option doesn’t bear thinking about. It’s far better to be a soldier, to have mobility. He’s still on a leash, but his extends into outer space and removed from the wreckage of earth, he feels this sliver of hope that their species will somehow survive.

He lives for those missions, away from earth where his job is to round up ProGens like cattle. He has nightmares of the self-immolation of the Druids -- a peaceful group of ProGens that took to the fringe and, in the end, set themselves on fire rather than be led back in.

Arthur’s been trained with a gun in his hand since he was six. He was in the field at fifteen, leading men at twenty-one. He’s as close to machine as he can get -- enhanced parts, abnormal survival rates without sustenance, no feelings he’s a slave to; they trained it out of him, beat him until the urge was squeezed out like pus from a sore.

Something about Merlin shocks him awake as if he’s been sleepwalking his entire life. Merlin has the magic gene that somehow managed to withstand the radiation’s effects. He’s also a prodigy. Both mean he should be brought in, penned up.

"Get inside," Arthur says. He shoves Merlin against the closed door with his hips and stares into those incredibly blue eyes. One hand trails up beneath Merlin’s shirt, unerringly goes to the single, round scar where Arthur shot him that first mission he was sent on to bring Merlin in.

Arthur slides his thumb between Merlin's lips, tries to process the urges hurtling through him. He's torn between arousal and disgust at his own body. His thumb eases out with no suction to stop it -- Merlin is artless, probably every bit as cold as he is. Arthur can’t hear over the sudden rush of blood in his ears, and he smashes their lips together clumsily. He's never done this before, never been interested in putting his hands all over someone else's body, licking the sweat in the crook of their neck.

His body’s been honed since he was a child, and yet the mechanics of something that should be primal elude him, can’t override the burn of his memories straining against the surface. He pushes Merlin down to his knees. It occurs to him that Merlin’s never done this either, but rather it be him that figures things out. Arthur needs all his wits just to breathe through this.

Merlin eases his fly down with shaking fingers and wraps a too dry hand around him.

Arthur shakes his head. “Your lips,” he grunts out.

Merlin swallows hard before leaning in, taking Arthur into the sweet, wet heat of his mouth. He pauses there, trying to acclimate to the feel of Arthur inside, stretching him, and the tease is unbearable. Arthur snaps his hips forward, needs the friction, and Merlin chokes around him which makes it _better_.

When he comes, he slides to the floor, legs unsteady. He unholsters the gun strapped to Merlin’s thigh and makes quick work of the uniform buttons, before covering Merlin’s body with his own. He wraps his hand around himself, before sliding his slickened fingers around Merlin, pumping so quickly as to be obscene.

After, Arthur’s hand hovers over Merlin’s face, suddenly afraid to touch. “God, what are we going to do?”

“Take me with you.”

He lets out a bitter laugh. “You know what they’d do to you.”

“Not inside. I can do more good out there,” he insists, points to the ceiling.

Merlin is too valuable. He needs to be farmed, studied. He’s not expendable as a soldier the way Arthur is. He shakes his head slowly, says, “You can’t.”

“You don’t understand. Every night I hear this voice _calling_ me. It led me to you. It says I can help.”

“We’ve been here too long,” is his only response.

Merlin scrambles out from beneath Arthur’s loose hold, shrugs quickly into his clothes. He says in a voice far older than he is, “You’ll find me again, and we’ll do this together,” and slips out the door.

* * *


	6. Group C (without warnings)

**49**

Merlin, shaking and gasping for breath, clung to the damp open collar of Arthur’s oxford shirt. It was dirty, caked with mud and something that Merlin didn’t want to think about but, because underneath all that was Arthur’s hard chest, dusted lightly with dark blond hair, and heaving with his own shuddered breath, Merlin wouldn’t let go.

Couldn’t.

He needed this. Needed the reminder that he was alive and capable of feeling human emotions. Needed to know that, against all odds, they had made it this long, this far.

He needed to feel Arthur push his hard cock in, in, _in_ until he couldn’t go any further, only to pull completely out before shoving back inside hard.

Arthur wrapped his fingers tight around Merlin’s prick and squeezed. His tongue licked at Merlin’s open mouth before slipping inside to taste the inside of his mouth. Merlin moaned, filthy, and arched his back when Arthur’s other hand pressed into the small of his back.

Merlin dug his socked feet into Arthur’s back and let his head knock back against the cool basement wall with a thud. Arthur attached his mouth to Merlin’s neck, sucking and biting and licking, making Merlin tremble with need. His fingers slid into Arthur’s hair, pulling at the strands and rubbing them through his fingers, while Arthur continued to thrust into Merlin’s stretched hole, the pleasure-pain sending Merlin’s nerve-endings into overdrive.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur ground out through clenched teeth, his first words since they’d first started groping each other a mere ten minutes ago. They had fled to the basement when the warning sirens had gone off - Merlin abandoning the meal he’d spent most of the afternoon working on, a special one, because he wasn’t sure when they’d have another one, if they ever did - when Arthur had burst through the door. _Now_ , he’d shouted. _Basement. Now._ Hunting must not have gone well.

This act, possibly their final one, had been born out of that deep fear. Fear of the unknown, fear of the future they weren’t sure they’d ever have. But Merlin didn’t know if he’d want to spend his last few moments on earth any other way.

“So fucking tight.”

Merlin let the his fingers on his left hand scratch down Arthur’s arm, breaking the skin and marking him, the blood oozing to the surface in tiny beads. “I’m gonna-” Merlin started, and his body shuddered when Arthur sped up the stroke of his hand over his cock, his thumb slipping over his slit each time.

“Do it,” Arthur muttered, breathing into Merlin’s ear before licking the shell. “Come for me.”

When Merlin came, it was too loud, unsafe but he couldn’t stop Arthur’s name from tumbling from his lips in ecstasy.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” Arthur grunted with each thrust, before spilling inside of Merlin and groaning against his heated, sweaty neck.

Merlin ran his fingers through Arthur’s wet hair until he lifted his eyes to his. Arthur’s grin was loopy, satisfied, and for a moment, Merlin forgot what was going on outside. As their breathing evened out, Arthur pressed his forehead against Merlin’s. It was like so many times before, since he’d met Arthur, but now.

Now, Merlin couldn’t ignore the sounds outside anymore. The crashes and moans, sirens and shouts. Outside, their sleepy town of Camelot, was falling and the fear that Merlin had forgotten for a blissful moment came crashing back into him. His breathing quickened.

“Hey, hey,” Arthur soothed, his hands rubbing up and down Merlin’s back. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

Merlin looked into Arthur’s eyes, saw how much he loved him and it was enough to make him smile.

Until they heard the crash from upstairs, glass breaking and the table being overturned. Merlin gripped Arthur tightly, holding on, their breathing quickening. “It’ll be okay,” Arthur whispered. “I promise. It’ll be okay.”

The basement door handle jiggled. Then again. There was a shout, deep and unnatural, and then another jiggle at the handle. Moments later, Merlin watched in horror as the door opened, pulled out of the jamb and slid down the staircase as it fell off it’s hinges.

Merlin whimpered when he saw what used to be Leon, their neighbor and Arthur’s childhood friend, standing at the top of the stairs, no longer alive.

Arthur, eyes wide, kissed Merlin. “I love you.”

Merlin cried. “I love you, too.”

* * *

**50**

“Do you trust me?”

Arthur lifted his head, slowly coming to. His eyes were unfocused until Merlin’s hands steadied his face. Then, Arthur looked squarely at him, clarity dawning.

“You drugged me,” he accused hoarsely.

“ _Do you trust me_?” Merlin implored. “I need you to focus, sire.”

Arthur remained quiet for a moment, searching Merlin’s face. Then, he snorted. “You drugged me. I’m immobile, my wrists and ankles bound to a chair. I’m nude.” Arthur went a little red around the ears. “And you’re asking me if I trust you? Merlin, if I didn’t, I’d have called my guards and you’d be dead. You’d better explain this nonsense-”

“Good! Because I need you to trust me or this won’t work.” Merlin lifted one hand from Arthur’s face in favour of wrapping it around his prick. He gripped the base and twisted, working up the skin at Arthur’s shaft.

“Merlin!”

He stroked Arthur’s cheek with his free hand, leaned in, and kissed him. At first, Arthur was too shocked to kiss back, but at Merlin’s insistence, it wasn’t long before the two were licking, sucking, and biting in tandem. Merlin felt Arthur’s body straining against the bonds. In his fist, Arthur’s cock stiffened with every second.

Merlin only broke the kiss to whisper, “Say you trust me.”

“I do.” His mouth wildly sought Merlin’s.

“Say it.”

“ _I trust you_ , Merlin; for god’s sake, I trust you.”

With the first step of the ritual done, Merlin pulled away to retrieve a small metal rod. It was a simple healing spell but not without complications. First, that Arthur would inherently trust him; second, that Arthur would let Merlin purify him in the most intimate of manners; and third, that Arthur would submit to him, wholly and completely.

In the end, the only way to save Arthur’s life was to cleanse him. Merlin wouldn’t let him die. He would save his once and future king.

The rod was already dripping with lubrication by the time Merlin grasped it between his trembling fingers and stroked it up the length of Arthur’s prick. Arthur groaned and tipped his head back, giving Merlin the perfect opportunity to distract him. Merlin sucked on the bob of Arthur’s Adam’s apple, gripped his cock with one hand, and pressed the tip of the slim rod against the slit of Arthur’s prick. It was only when he began to work the rod in that Arthur tensed.

“Swefn pé swefe nu,” Merlin chanted softly, his lips against Arthur’s throat. His eyes flashed gold for one brief second as the spell warmed the rod and eased the way. He sank the entire length into Arthur’s prick, and to his pleasant surprise, Arthur moaned when it bottomed out. It was almost enough to distract Merlin, who felt his own length stir at the feel of Arthur’s prick beneath his fingers, the way his king’s body shook, the sounds Arthur let loose that made his stomach clench and his chest ache.

Carefully, Merlin began to move the sound with lethargic strokes: in deeply, out slowly. It was key that he purify Arthur entirely, from the inside out.

“Swefn pé swefe nu,” he repeated. Against him, Arthur shuddered. Again and Arthur bucked. Again and Arthur sobbed. “Tell me you’re mine.”

“Merlin-”

“ _Tell me you’re mine_.”

Arthur whimpered, the sound of it heating Merlin up like he’d never known. It was even worse as he heard his king complete the verbal part of the ritual by panting, “I’m yours, Merlin, I’m yours,” like a litany.

The air around them crackled and sang. Merlin could feel every pulse of his magic coursing through the sound, into Arthur, through his body, cleansing his soiled, diseased blood, curing him. He whispered an engorgement charm, thickening the rod until Arthur shouted. Every magical throb seemed to strike through Arthur’s prick, the colour of it changing from a healthy pink to a deep red, then purple as his orgasm built.

With Merlin’s name on his gasping lips, Arthur came. Merlin watched the milky fluid bubble up around the slimming sound in thick waves, creaming down the length of his prick, over Merlin’s fingers, to the coarse hairs at the base of his cock, along his balls. Merlin withdrew the sound, allowing a few delicate strokes to help Arthur finish, until his king was shaking and begging for mercy.

The deed done, Merlin pressed his right hand to Arthur’s heart and felt it beating. Healthy. Strong.

* * *

**51**

Something wakes Arthur in the dead of night, something hot and sticky in the back of his mind. He dresses distractedly and goes to the dungeons, searching.

'Let me in,' he says to the gaoler. 'Give me your key. And leave.'

His father's latest prisoner is in his cell, huddled in the corner and making soft, huffing breathless noises. Arthur unlocks the door and slips in. 'What's the matter?' he asks, going to touch the man.

He shies away, dark hair flopping into his blue eyes. 'Don't touch me,' he moans. 

But that's just what Arthur has to do, what the burning in his head is telling him to do. 'What's the matter?' he demands. 

'Leave me alone.' says the man. _Please_.'

Arthur bulls in, presses the soft inner skin of his wrist to the man's forehead. 'You're burning up,' he says, and the rational part of him wants to jerk away, the heat is so intense, but just that simple act of _touching_ feels too good to let go of.

''m fine.'

'Liar. You've got a fever, a deadly one.' Arthur should get up and go for Gaius - even condemned prisoners are due medical care. But he still can't talk himself into letting go. 'You'll die.'

The man is panting now. 'Better than a real pyre,' he says, spitting into the straw next to Arthur. 'Damn you, let me go.' His eyes are fixed on Arthur's, though, and he licks his lips as if he doesn't know he's doing it.

'Not until you tell me what's wrong,' says Arthur, fixated on that pink tongue dragging across those soft-looking lips. 'And your name. Tell me your name. I'm Arthur.'

'Merlin,' says the prisoner softly. Arthur's grip tightens involuntarily at the sound of it, and Merlin mewls and bucks, jacknifing from the hips like he's been burnt. The motion makes Arthur look down, and see - see that Merlin's hard and straining in his trousers, and it seems like the right thing, the only thing, to kiss him then, pinned into the straw. 

Merlin falls apart under that, sinks boneless into Arthur's hold and opens his mouth to draw Arthur in, tongue and breath and gasping nonsense words and all. 

Arthur doesn't know what he's doing, this is wrong, this is _wrong_ but he has to do it. He fumbles at Merlin's belt, tears at his trousers - and then Merlin grabs his hand and sucks three fingers into his mouth all at once. 

When he lets go, panting, he says, 'If we have to - please, just do it. I can't do this any more.'

His legs are wide, cradling Arthur, making room so that Arthur can drag his hand all wet and hot between and in, and then Merlin is spitted on him, crying for it, trying to muffle his noise with his hand. Arthur drags it away. 'Tell me,' he says. 'Tell me.'

'Shut up,' says Merlin fiercely. 'Just - do it, Arthur. I'll die if you don't. Just put it in me, _please_.'

Arthur doesn't take orders, but he will happily grant requests. Merlin is like a furnace inside. Arthur loses his head, loses his _mind_ , and straw flies every which-way as he pounds into Merlin, as Merlin cries out and shoves up against him, scrabbling awkwardly at the bared stone of the floor with weak hands, trying to gain some purchase and failing, egging Arthur on. 

He comes against Arthur's belly, but it doesn't seem to sate him. He twists and pushes and cries out 'Arthur come on, I need it. I need it, Arthur, or I'll - I need -'

Coming is the last thing Arthur remembers for a little while, and when he rouses he feels weak, drained. 

'What - what was that?' he demands, casting around for his trousers. Merlin is huddled in the corner again, but not shivering this time, not radiating that sick, fierce heat. 'That fever - I thought you were going to die -' He did. He remembers, and he can't work out why he didn't go for Gaius -

'I was,' says Merlin, turning. His eyes are red. 'That was the plan.'

* * *

**52**

**shot to the heart of hell (1/2)**

"I want you to kill me," Gwen says. Her voice is hoarse, like it had to scratch its way out of her throat to get out. "Before I- change, I want you to kill me."

Morgana can't look at her. She can't see the steely determination in Gwen's face, the fear creeping in at the corners. She can't risk looking down and seeing the bloodied bandage wound around Gwen's arm. 

"I can't," Morgana whispers. "Gwen, I _can't_."

Gwen lays a hand on her arm, gently, so gently. Morgana closes her eyes. 

"Please," Gwen whispers, and her breath shivers on Morgana's neck. "I wouldn't ask, I'd do it myself if I could, but- but I can't- I'm so sorry, Morgana."

And Morgana just makes this noise, a kind of strangled cry that gets lost somewhere in her throat, and grips Gwen's shoulders and kisses her. Except her eyes are still closed and she misjudges the distance between them so she misses Gwen's mouth completely, gets the bump of her nose instead. Gwen takes her by the chin - gently, always fucking gently - and angles her face up so the next time Morgana leans in their lips meet instead. 

"But, Arthur," Morgana starts, eyes opening, when Gwen pulls back. 

"Arthur is dead," Gwen says fiercely, "and I'm not, not yet."

Morgana closes her eyes again. Arthur was bitten a few weeks ago; Gwen had to kill him, because Morgana couldn't and the others were long gone. The look on Gwen's face, afterwards, still haunts Morgana, in a way her half-brother's lifeless body sprawled bleeding on the pavement doesn't. 

"You were supposed to get married," Morgana whispers, and she's rocking now, backwards and forwards, clutching her knees. Gwen's face, stoic and calm, is burnt onto the backs of her eyelids. "You were supposed to have two and a half children and be sickeningly happy together for the rest of your lives, none of this was supposed to happen."

"Morgana," Gwen says softly, then, louder, " _Morgana_ ," when she only shakes her head violently, laying a hand on Morgana's arm to stop her quivering, and when that doesn't work pressing her lips to Morgana's forehead, her cheek, and finally her mouth. 

This time the noise Morgana makes is halfway between anguish and sheer unadulterated _want_ , and she opens her mouth to let Gwen inside, her legs spreading automatically. Gwen settles between them like she belongs there, like this is where she was always meant to be, but Morgana has always thought that, _wished_ for that. Even when Gwen was hopelessly straight and dating her brother, even when they announced the engagement and Morgana tried to kiss her and Gwen turned her head and didn't speak to her for a week, even when they lowered Arthur's body into the makeshift grave they dug for him and Gwen held Morgana as she cried, her own eyes dry as a bone. Morgana _hoped_. 

(She knows, rationally, that nothing has changed, that Gwen loves her fiercely but not in the way Morgana loves her, that if Gwen weren't staring a death sentence in the face she wouldn't be letting Morgana have this. She knows, but the larger, irrational part of her doesn't _care_. She's wanted Gwen for so long she can't bring herself to.)

Gwen cries when she comes, awful hitching sobs which catch in her throat and Morgana would love, _love_ to believe it's her fingers buried deep inside Gwen, twisting, which wrench the tears out of her, but she hears the bitten-off _Arth_ \- and can't.

Morgana cries, too, a garbled litany of curses and Gwen's name and something that might be _love_ tangled among it all, and Gwen kisses the tears off Morgana's cheeks and whispers, "I know, it's okay, I _know_ ," even though Morgana isn't sure even she does.

They hold each other, afterwards, which isn't anything new; they always sleep curled together, ever since Arthur. Gwen clings more than usual, though, and Morgana strokes lines down her bandaged arm, wishing that would cure it, wishing there was anything she could do that would. 

"I'll do it," she whispers, finally, and it's been so long since Gwen asked Morgana doesn't think she'll know what she means, but the sigh Gwen breathes is grateful and so, so tired. 

"Thank you," Gwen murmurs, " _thank you_ ," and Morgana grips her tight and starts counting down the minutes.

* * *

**53**

"What's that?"

"Nothing," Merlin said.

Arthur fidgeted next to him, caught between standing and crouching down, then deciding for standing, toes curled into the soft sand of the shore, his back to the dwellings in the distance. 

"Nice," Arthur said.

"Nice," Merlin gave back, mimicking the sarcastic tone.

The marbles plopped through the surface and sunk to the bottom. Merlin listened and tried to hear the soft clink as it hit his mountain of marbles already there, but there was no way he could. He still thought he did, nevermind the noise of the warships as they hovered in the sky, just waiting. Chances were, the noise of the marbles was as much in his head as his silly little ideas of love and destiny. 

The ships droned like a swarm of bees just waiting to attack. They cut out all normal sounds. No birds, no water, no ping of the marbles as he sunk them all. Arthur had started giving them to him when they'd been, what, four or five, and now Merlin killed them dead. What else was there to do when he'd be a corpse by morning? 

Arthur's toes buried into the sand. Tense. "You know I can't. I would. But I can't."

"You can use my arse and pretend it's a pussy."

"The General won't-"

"Fuck you."

Arthur stared off into the distance, then down at Merlin's tower of marbles, and Merlin stared at Arthur. Imagined him with his cock, the same cock he'd lovingly sucked and kissed, deep in Gwen's pussy as he fucked her for children and for survival and for the warlords who wouldn't accept anything else as they hovered and just waited for Arthur to break his promises. 

Merlin leaned in, marbles still in hand, and pressed his face to Arthur's crotch, inhaled, soaked up the stink of sweat and of sex that clung to Arthur's trousers, then mouthed around the soft bulge of his cock and balls. He opened his lips around the cloth, sucked, fingers curling around Arthur's thighs.

"I can't-" Arthur stepped back, cock hard in his trousers and fingers balled to fists at his side. "You know I can't. The ... the kingdom."

"Right, for the good of the kingdom." Merlin turned back to the water, tasting the sandy grime on his tongue as he dropped another marble into its watery grave, burying pieces of himself bit by bit before he was lined up tomorrow with the others and shot one by one - all the ones not bound, mated, the ones no one wanted.

Merlin closed his eyes and imagined the taste of Arthur's cock in his mouth, the way it felt when it pushed into his arse and Merlin just took it. He got hard, straining against his trousers, and Merlin popped the buttons and closed his fingers around his cock, fist closed around the marbles in his other hand. He looked at Arthur as he jerked himself slowly, every twist of his wrist being one of their memories, one of their kisses, one of their drunken, fucked-up promises and one of his own foolish dreams of being the ones to be forever.

Arthur watched, cock twitching but he never pushed his trousers down, only watched as Merlin got wet, and harder and his breath came faster, only watched as Merlin opened his mouth and pushed a marble inside and swallowed. One by one he ate up Arthur's pledges to a future.

Behind Arthur the ships hovered. Tomorrow Merlin would be lined up with the rest of the suckers as Arthur and Gwen looked on. They'd be disposed off, like meat. But they wouldn't take this from Merlin, they wouldn't take knowing what Arthur carried in his heart.

Merlin swallowed the marbles one by one, pressing them down his throat, and jerked himself harder and faster. He spilled over his hand, over his trousers and the sand, almost over Arthur's toes buried in the sand.

"I can't-" Arthur said into the drone of the ships.

Merlin offered him one of the marbles, made him take it, before he turned back to the water to drop them down into the river one by one. His cock still out, shriveled against his thigh, he tried to listen to the sound of the marbles breaking the surface but he only heard the drone of the ships and Arthur walking away.

In his heart, he had Arthur swallow it like him. In his head, Merlin knew he never would.

* * *

**54**

Arthur did not want to wake up.

He had been dreaming about an attack happening in the alley next to his building. Arthur had lowered a rope to help save the victim, and somehow the man had managed to climb it and escape from certain death. The man was a stranger, but even in his sleep Arthur couldn’t bring himself to let someone die if there was something he could do about it.

The man had been Arthur’s first human contact in nearly three months and the only “guest” Arthur had ever had in his rooftop “home.” They had talked about the sky, about the missing stars and sun and moon. And even though those things scared Arthur when he was awake, the dream friend had made it seem okay, even wondrous. He had called it magic.

Arthur had never believed in magic, but then the man had held out his hands and his eyes had glowed gold and the long-dead rooftop garden sprang to life in a matter of seconds. They had feasted on tomatoes before curling up on Arthur’s sleeping bag and dozing off together.

It had been a beautiful dream and Arthur didn’t want to lose it. He wanted to stay in that world.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to be able to fall back asleep, Arthur sighed and opened his eyes

The stranger was staring at him.

Arthur blinked and the previous night's events crashed over him in a sobering jolt. The alley attack, the rope Arthur had lowered for Merlin to climb, the discovery of Merlin’s magic, the fresh tomatoes from the garden... it had all happened. It wasn’t a dream. Merlin was real, and so was magic, and so was the hunger in the pit of Arthur’s stomach.

"You're still here," Arthur said stupidly.

"Where would I go?" Merlin asked. He moved his finger to Arthur's jawline and traced it slowly.

Arthur shrugged and Merlin and pressed his lips to Arthur's briefly.

"Do you think there are other people out there who have done the same things we've done?"

Arthur frowned, his mind stuck on the kiss. "What?"

"Do you think there's anyone else out there who's been living on a rooftop for three months and who saved the life of some weird magic kid and who’s now cuddling with said kid next to a freshly grown garden."

"I hope so," Arthur whispered.

Merlin licked his lips and inched a little closer to Arthur. "Is it alright if I kiss you again?"

Arthur barely had time to nod before Merlin's lips were on his. Slowly, Merlin coaxed his mouth open. He gasped when Merlin's tongue slid against his, and then Merlin crawled on top of him and he couldn't think anymore.

Merlin was thin but incredibly solid. He was strong and his hands were rough as they dragged off Arthur's shirt and started undoing Arthur's jeans. Arthur tried to take off Merlin's clothes, but his hands were shaking too badly and he wasn't sure where to start. He wanted to feel Merlin's chest against his own. He wanted to prove to himself that Merlin was alive and real and not a figment of his imagination. He wanted to feel Merlin's heart beating against his own.

"I really hope you're not the last decent person alive," Merlin said into Arthur's neck after he had pushed their pants down to their thighs and wrapped his long fingers around their cocks. "But if you are, I'm keeping you all for myself."

Arthur tried to laugh but all that came out was a moan. He arched up as Merlin stroked them, trying to catch his breath and not lose control too soon. He hadn't even had a wank since his first week on the rooftop, back when he still felt things like hunger and lust. Everything had faded as the days and weeks and months had ticked by, but just as hunger had ravished him the night before at the first taste of the ripe tomato, lust and passion and desire and need were flooding his senses now.

He could taste the tomato on Merlin's tongue and he was shaking and he couldn't breathe and he came right when Merlin's other hand brushed across their balls.

"I'm definitely staying up here with you," Merlin whispered against Arthur's lips. "If you'll let me."

Arthur wrapped his arms around Merlin's waist. "Please," he pleaded into Merlin's hair. "Please stay."

* * *

**55**

"Would it kill you to make little more effort?" Merlin growls as the door shuts behind them.

" _Me_? What–"

"Lower your voice! That is not how a slave talks to his master."

 _That_ is not how a corporal talks to a major, and Merlin knows it. "Look," says Arthur, whispering despite himself, "just because you speak the lingo doesn't mean you're suddenly in charge. If making up some kind of… _relationship_ is the only way to get them to talk to you, then fine. But I'm not just going to bow my head and take your abuse, like–"

"Like somebody who's been conditioned for years to think they're less than a person?" Merlin snaps, and Arthur's shocked into silence. "Don't you see? It's not only information at this point. If you keep talking back and strutting around like some Camelot Academy brat, they'll expect me to punish you for it."

Arthur pictures the marks on the other slaves' backs. He imagines Merlin with a flogger in his hand, bending Arthur over his knee. He hears that strange, commanding voice in his head and feels his face flush.

"And if that doesn't happen," Merlin continues, "it won't be long before they figure out–" 

"And then we could–" Arthur stops, swallows. "We really would be enslaved."

"Maybe. They enslave the ones they think they can control." Merlin leans close and takes his hand. "Do you trust me?"

Four years together in the Five Kingdoms Army, with Merlin never leaving his side. There's no way he'd stop trusting this man. "Of course."

"Good. Then for God's sake, follow my lead. It took me a lot of effort to get away from these people in the first place. I sure as hell don't intend to die here."

The Essetians greet Merlin casual tones, and he grins as he answers them. Though he claims to hate it here, his movements are easy and graceful, and these fine tailored robes suit him better than 5K uniforms ever have. Arthur kneels by his feet, doing his best to mimic the other slaves. 

An Essetian woman nods at them approvingly as she tugs on a ring in her slave's nipple. The girl moans, and Arthur wonders if she is a captive like he pretends to be.

Everyone's in a better mood now: laughing, kissing, playing. Perhaps they think Merlin did beat him while they were alone, and that's why his behavior's improved. A man Arthur's father's age approaches them and exchanges a few words with Merlin, who threads his fingers through Arthur's hair as he answers, his tone polite but closed off. The man withdraws, frowning, but without harsh words.

"He wanted to taste you," Merlin says to Arthur's questioning look. Raising his voice slightly, though the words will mean nothing to the others, he adds, "But I won't let him, because you're mine."

"Thank you, master," Arthur says, voice cracking with uncertainty and shame. _Trust me._ Merlin cups his jaw and Arthur leans in, presses his hot face into Merlin's lap.

Arthur's always known Merlin came from Essetir – it's one of the reasons he'll never advance beyond his current rank. What he'd never realized before this mission is that Merlin comes from good family here. He said he never owned a plaything for himself, but he could have expected to acquire one once he took his place in society. Arthur is awed and startlingly, fiercely grateful that Merlin chose to leave all this behind to serve the 5K. With him.

"I want them all to know how grateful I am, though I don't have the words." Arthur reaches into Merlin's robes and takes hold of his half-hard prick. Merlin closes his eyes for a moment. 

"Let me make it good for you, master."

Merlin nods.

Arthur's seen Merlin naked dozens of times. Lying in his bunk at night, pulling at his own cock in quick, frustrated strokes, he's thought about him naked thousands of times. But Major Arthur Pendragon would never initiate sexual relations with a subordinate.

Arthur's imagined himself in this very position – granted, without the room full of people. He's wanted to kneel before another man and take his cock in his mouth, let another man (Merlin, why not admit it: he's always wanted Merlin) tangle his fingers in Arthur's hair and push into him, choke him, take him over. But General Pendragon's son would never debase himself in that way. 

The Essetian Merlin's captive would. Humiliated, happy, Merlin's Arthur does.

* * *

**56**

Morgana had managed to hold them up for three days in cliffs, deep in the Insingdor caverns. They were both starving, drained for thirst, and even afraid to breathe because of what lay within their possible tomb. The smell had become so unbearable that Arthur had taken Merlin’s scarf to hold against his face the nights before. Now however, Merlin crouched beneath him, Arthur’s body pressed against his in slumber. It was because they were in such a tight space, of course. But somehow he knew even though the prince appeared to sleep peacefully against him he would be awake at the slightly sound of a sliding talon or a scraping scale.

The beasts that were in the cavern were far from anything they recognized. The odor was unfamiliar for one, smelling largely of a mixture of fern and…as Arthur had had difficulty placing at first, sex. The temperature in the cave left them sweating and hot. Only Arthur’s knighthood or his thick headedness as Merlin swore kept him from ridding his shirt from his skin to help his breathing. His scarf had been turned into a sweat towel over night.

Whether Arthur woke on his own in the next hour mattered not, for he would have to wake him soon anyway. The low growls and unusual sounds from the beasts were dying down for sleep. That meant it was time to move. Arthur had told him there was a read exit to the caverns that had been discovered by an unfortunate knight when he was a child. That was their only hope, and Merlin feared what would happen if for some reason the exit was not there or had been blocked for some reason.  
A talon scraped across the rocky ground just as Merlin was beginning to drift and Arthur was leaning up in an instant, looking around with tired, puffy eyes, “Shutup, Merlin,” he whispered.

“I wasn’t eve-“

He shoved his hand in his face to push himself up. The only reason they were able to see each other was because of the sharp glittering crystals that reflected off of the beasts. They’d discovered on accident that once they fell into sleep they were extremely hard to wake, unless you touched them. And one other thing was to their advantage as they traversed, they were blind. Merlin followed Arthur closely as they pasted one of them, listening to the loud deep breathing. White thick fur like that of a cats crushed through diamond like scaled. It’s nostrils were the size of a human head, flowing a tough gust of air with each breath. They’d learned quickly to steer away if they could, especially on inhale. That had almost cost them their lives. They struck Merlin as slightly goat like, with the elongated body of a dragon.

“Merlin…hurry up.”

He glanced up at Arthur, who was touching a piece of crystal on the floor that had somehow chipped off, shedding a sharp pink cast in his eyes. He handed it to Merlin, “keep that and give it to Gaius.”

Merlin nodded, not arguing right now but not feeling too good about it as he stuck it in a pouch on his side. Meddling with any of these things wasn’t wise, but he didn’t feel alerted to it. He followed Arthur on, and it seemed they’d finally reached a point where the smell of a stream and the sound of the nights crickets flooded into the cave. But when they peaked around the corner into a large cavernous hole they were left stunned. These creatures were awake, and the smell of sex quickly became apparent.

“They’re…m-mating…”

“Thank you, Merlin. Brilliant,” Arthur scoffed. The smell was overwhelming. 

He backed up behind the wall a little further, “They’ll be able to smell us. The opening is clear but there’s no chance as we are..” he reached for him.

“W-wait Arthur, not here-“

“Do you want out or not?” he nipped and pushed him down against the rock floor. He ground against him, biting at his neck, “Quick and fast my little sorcerer…be a good servant, turn over.”

Merlin shivered, eyes flashing unusually at the command and he felt himself grow hot, so fast his breath became short. Arthur matched him, his heat escalating. Merlin was on his stomach, dripping in his own cum within minutes. Arthur fucked him fast, provided easy entrance by magic, and exploded inside him once, and then again.

Once sex covered and free, magic demanded even more.

* * *

**57**

It started with murmurs and whispers around the castle. Scullery maid to stable boy, knight to page, and finally kitchen boy to Merlin.

“…the ponies…”

But no one was very specific, just very afraid, and Merlin grew a little frustrated. He tried to look it up in his books of magick beasties, but he didn’t even really know where to start, so he ended up with approximately eighty-two dead-ends and a headache.

“Gaius,” he finally asked one afternoon as he was putting away the herbs he’d been sent to gather, “what are these ‘ponies’ everyone keeps going on about?”

Gaius froze. Twitched. Avoided Merlin’s gaze. “Merlin,” he finally replied, his eye contact too earnest to be truthful, “where did you hear such a thing?”

“Oh, I dunno, let me think. Everywhere?”

Gaius made a dismissive gesture. With notably trembling hands. “Pay it no heed.”

Merlin nodded slowly, knowing he’d do the opposite. “All right.”

\---

But there were no words to describe how completely and utterly unprepared he was for the actuality when it finally came.

\---

The first sign of their arrival was the soft clop of hooves in the main courtyard. Which, yes, saw a lot of hoof-clopping, but hardly any of it involved tinkling musical accompaniment.

Merlin was in Arthur’s room, of course, tidying up after morning practice while Arthur bathed. “It sounds like a group of children got ahold of the castle bells,” he started, “and put them on—“

He stopped.

“…ponies,” he and Arthur said at once.

\---

The second sign was rather more subtle. It was when the gigantic anthropomorphic sparkling beasts demanded they all fornicate.

The king and his closest companions (the future king, the future queen, the future court sorcerer, the future archenemy of everything he stood for; the usual) had gathered in the courtyard to greet their guests.

“We come in peace!” Arthur said. “No, wait, that’s not right.”

“This feels like something out of a drama about teenaged vampire hunters,” Uther said. Arthur brightened. “No, that’s not right, either.” Arthur frowned.

Merlin wanted to throw all of them over the wall. “And what happens if we do not comply?” he asked the front pony, who seemed, with its hugest eyes and flowingest mane, to be the leader.

The pony kicked at the ground. “Then you shall all perish.”

Merlin looked at Gaius, and could tell by the look on his face that these creatures were indeed capable of such destruction. “But that doesn’t make any sense,” he protested diplomatically. “Why—why _that_? Why is it so important?”

Merlin could’ve sworn the pony’s eyes twinkled at him especially. “Love is the most important thing.”

He groaned and put his head in his hands.

\---

“I still don’t see why we had to do it this way,” Merlin said offhandedly as Arthur slid two slicked-up fingers into him. “Morgana and Gwen, you and me, Gaius and--”

“Please do not finish that sentence.”

“…yeah, sorry.”

“Nobles bedding their servants out of wedlock is acceptable, Merlin, that’s why. Now hush, I’m trying to concentrate.”

“What on earth would you be trying to concentrate _on_? It’s rather basic--” He choked as Arthur’s crooked fingers hit something magnificent. “-- _oooh_.”

“Yes, oh.” He kissed Merlin, on the mouth, and Merlin couldn’t help but kiss back. “Now _hush_.”

\---

The next day, after a breakfast of Camelot’s finest hay, the ponies said their farewells. Everyone seemed rather non-nonplussed, even though Merlin’s mind was racing with Arthur’s damnable hands and lips and cock, and he wondered how the other couples had fared.

Afterwards, Merlin briefly caught glimpses of the girls exchanging giggles and heated looks while Arthur dragged him back up to his chambers, and he figured that was a good enough answer. Then he forgot the question all together as Arthur pinned him down on the bed and stroked their cocks together until they came in a rush.

Afterwards, and most bizarrely, Arthur cleaned them both up and climbed back into bed. “I’m rather glad they visited, considering,” he said on a yawn, “but I preferred the bears.”

“The _what_?”

Arthur waved vaguely. “There were bears once, a couple years before you got here, they shot magical light from their--” He gestured at his stomach region. “They were the most frightening things I’ve ever seen, but at least they didn’t leave sparkling excrement everywhere.” He kissed Merlin’s shoulder and settled in, clearly intending to nap. “Now sleep, you idiot.”

_**FIN** ~~thank god~~_

* * *

**58**

Arthur turned his face from Morgana toward the wall of the cell, his cheek resting on the cool floor. He looked up at Merlin, analysing the raw rage etched into his features.

"Don't," Arthur groaned.

Morgana cackled in triumph, but Arthur knew Merlin recognised his warning for what it was. Morgana couldn't know of Merlin's magic yet. Not with so much at stake.

Morgana tapped her fingers against the bars. "He hasn't much time left."

Behind him, Arthur heard Melin spit into his palm.

"No," Morgana hissed. "You will fuck him dry."

"Morgana, I swear—"

"He'll die if you don't," she interrupted, her voice tinted with mad glee. "He needs your seed."

Arthur felt Merlin's thighs against his own, the flicking of Merlin's wrist as he squeezed his prick into arousal. Arthur felt himself wince.

The solid warmth of Merlin spread across Arthur's back, wet breath against his ear.

"Please relax," Merlin said, rubbing a soothing hand up and down Arthur's side. "I don't want to hurt you."

Merlin kept whispering to Arthur, urging him to be calm, as he pressed his cock to Arthur's entrance and in.

Arthur closed his eyes against the tears, his throat clenched unbearably tight. He would not give Morgana the satisfaction of hearing him cry out.

Merlin's movement was slow and careful.

Arthur thought he might lose consciousness from the pain ripping through him. He hoped he would.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered again and again into Arthur's hair as he drove his cock into Arthur's arse. "Please forgive me."

Arthur couldn't think past the pain of Merlin's prick pressing into him, the sharp knowledge that he was bleeding inside. He beat his fist against the floor—anything to distract him from Morgana's incessant mocking.

Merlin's hand covered his fist, rubbing his thumb over the sensitive skin of Arthur's wrist.

"Please just bear through this. Please." Merlin sounded desperate, his voice high-pitched and ragged. "I'll make you better, I promise." He pressed a kiss to Arthur's ear.

Arthur relaxed his hand and slotted his fingers between Merlin's, clutching them dearly.

"Kiss me more," he choked around the sobs threatening to escape him.

Merlin pulled stiff, gentle kisses up Arthur's neck that left him yearning for sincerity.

"Enjoy this," Arthur hissed. "You have to come."

"I can't," Merlin said, kissing Arthur's ear again, the gesture full of the tenderness that Arthur craved. "I can't like hurting you."

"You can like fucking me," Arthur grit out, slamming back into Merlin and nearly vomiting from the pain.

Despite himself, Merlin began driving his hips in more forcefully.

"Fuck, Arthur," Merlin hissed. "I'm sorry."

"Stop apologising and fuck me," Arthur growled. "Fuck me like you mean it, like you want it. Imagine a girl you fancy—I don't care. Just do it."

"It's you," Merlin breathed after a moment. "Only you I think about."

Arthur felt his chest swell with a familiar longing. He grasped Merlin's fingers and shook his head, blocking out Morgana's cruel laughter.

"Just pretend," Arthur whispered. "We're in my bed. We've been kissing, and you've covered your cock in oil, and I'm begging you for it."

"Oh, god."

"Fuck me, Merlin. I need you to fill me with your come."

"Fuck," Merlin grunted, and Arthur wanted to pretend, too.

"Touch me."

Merlin brushed his fingers along Arthur's flaccid prick, and even though he could not become aroused, it was good to know Merlin's touch.

A loud crash and men's voices cut through Merlin's hoarse breathing.

Gwaine and Elyan had broken through with the orb.

"Keep talking," Merlin panted even as Morgana fled. "Lie to me."

Arthur let out a long, steadying exhale.

"Merlin, yes," he moaned like a whore, turning his face into Merlin's neck, savouring his scent. "You feel so good. I love the way your cock feels pumping in and out of my arse. I want to suck you—feel your prick slide past my lips and over my tongue. I want to taste you. I want—"

Merlin let out a broken moan as his body stilled. He squeezed Arthur's hand, pressing his lips to Arthur's brow.

A moment passed, and Merlin pulled himself away, pressing his hand to the small of Arthur's back and muttering enchantments. Immediately the pain in Arthur faded to a dull ache.

"That's enough," Arthur said, pulling up his trousers and turning to face Merlin. He wiped the tears from Merlin's cheeks. "I want to feel you still."

Merlin pressed a hand to Arthur's chest.

* * *

**59**

They met fighting over a can of beans.

Merlin’s car finally broke down days ago, stuttered and died on a stretch of highway and no matter how much his magic sparked and crackled at his fingertips, it wouldn’t move. He was regulated to walking, backpack heavy on his shoulders, holes in his jeans, canteen looped around his neck, and gun tucked into his waistband. His body ached, muscles sore, feet dragging and kicking up dust as he stumbled into the desolate town. His water was dangerously low for the heat of the summer and he measured his sips, trying to conserve it. Merlin made for the shops, hoping for food or water, and a place to sleep that wasn’t a ditch or littered with bodies. 

It had been so long since Merlin had encountered another human being that he wasn’t sure what he was seeing at first in the dim lighting of the Tescos.

Merlin’s hand shook, his palms sweaty as he leveled the pistol at the stranger, the dented, dusty jumbo can of beans lying on its side in the aisle midway between them.

His blond hair was dirty and sweat-soaked, a day’s worth of stubble lined his face, and he brandished his shotgun at Merlin like he knew how to use it. His eyes were wide and reflected Merlin’s own hunted, starved look. 

Merlin swallowed, unsure, magic flaring under his skin in a way he hadn’t felt before. 

“Share it?” he rasped.

The stranger eyed him warily, licked his lips, and nodded. 

They lowered their guns at the same time. 

Merlin’s heart beat wildly, his pulse thumping as they inched closer.

“I’m Arthur,” the stranger offered. 

“Merlin,” he answered with a strained smile. 

They shared the tin, over a makeshift fire in a fireplace of an abandoned house, sat on the floor. While their feast heated, beans bubbling hot, Arthur told Merlin he had been a lawyer before the epidemic. It took both his father and sister. 

Merlin had been a student, not that it mattered now. The pandemic had been swift, vicious, and undiscriminating. Merlin’s small village of Ealdor had been decimated in two weeks despite his own best efforts, his magic impotent against the sickness, and he was left alone.

Merlin couldn’t stay there, the memories of his loved ones thick in the air, cloying like the soil where he buried them. 

As it was, sitting close to Arthur as they dug their spoons into the can, their knees bumping as they ate and spoke softly, Merlin felt touch-starved, hungry, _lonely_.

Arthur must have felt the same way. 

His kiss was abrupt, his lips rough and chapped on Merlin’s own, his hands greedy for every inch of Merlin’s skin as he licked his way into Merlin’s mouth. Merlin kissed back, hands twined in Arthur’s thick hair, biting and nipping. They pushed and tugged each other toward the bedroom, kicked up a cloud of dust as they collapsed onto the bed. 

It was dirty and fast. 

Merlin clawed at Arthur’s clothes, desperate to feel skin against skin, the heat of another person against him after weeks of solitude and fear. Arthur’s fingers were trembling and clumsy at Merlin’s zip as they kissed eagerly but he managed to yank Merlin’s jeans down his hips, freeing Merlin’s hard, leaking cock. Merlin clutched at Arthur’s solid body, drew him down and arched his back as Arthur covered him and Merlin reveled in the feeling of being pushed into the mattress, smothered, sheltered. They rutted together, their cocks flushed, skin hot and dry, Arthur letting out small grunts every time he pressed down. 

Arthur pushed two of his fingers forcefully past Merlin’s lips and Merlin hungrily sucked them, moaned as Arthur fucked his mouth, slid them in and out along his tongue. Arthur pulled them out with a wet pop then took both of their cocks in his spit-slick hand, stroked them fast, brutal and without rhythm. 

Merlin pistoned his hips wildly, head thrown back, his magic electric and zinging along his limbs. He dug his fingers into Arthur’s arse, urged him to go faster, harder, his orgasm rapidly building. 

“Fuck, Arthur. Fuck!” Merlin cried as he came. 

Arthur followed shortly after, buried his face in Merlin’s neck, panting Merlin’s name. 

“I have an idea,” Arthur said later, lying in the afterglow, wrapped around each other “about uniting the people left and starting over. I think you should join me.”

Merlin smiled and his magic blazed in agreement.

* * *

**60**

Arthur washes the bowls carefully, making sure they are clean inside and out. He doesn't want to disappoint Merlin. Rinsing the pot is next – Arthur is glad he remembers – but his thoughts are interrupted when he hears voices coming from the other side of the camp.

“Haven’t had me a woman in _ages_ ,” a voice says plaintively. 

( _Smugglers_ , Merlin calls them. The word makes Arthur’s shoulders hunch up, but he’s not sure why. They’ve been very nice in letting them travel with the caravan.)

“Haven’t had a woman ever, you mean,” a rough voice responds, and there’s a burst of raucous laughter among the trees.

“I’m going to _die_ if someone doesn’t touch my cock soon,” the plaintive one continues.

“Nothing wrong with your hand from what I can see,” the rough one says, snorting.

The voices fade into the night, but not from Arthur’s thoughts. He looks down at his cock and tries to remember the last time someone touched it. He can’t remember much, his memory is so hazy, but maybe Merlin knows. Merlin knows everything. 

Arthur finishes rinsing the pot and makes his way back to the fire and to Merlin, where it is warm. Merlin smiles at him when he returns. Arthur gets so lost in his smile, he forgets to ask Merlin about the smugglers. 

Merlin tells him a story before bed about a great dragon that flies, filling the sky with fire, and a man who sits astride him and rides the wind. Arthur listens to the cadence of Merlin’s voice and watches the sweep of his fingers as he paints the story with his hands. 

They settle on the ground to sleep, and Arthur shifts as close to Merlin as he can without being annoying. Arthur feels safe when Merlin is around: Merlin is kind and strong and smart, all the things Arthur wants to be.

~

Arthur wakes up later when the stars are brighter and the fire is colder. He looks over as Merlin murmurs and rolls closer to him, still asleep. Arthur happily wriggles closer to Merlin's warmth, then notices Merlin’s cock straining against his breeches, hard against Arthur’s hip. Arthur frowns, remembering what the smuggler said. He pokes Merlin awake to see if he’s dying.

“Arthur?” Merlin says, his voice scratchy. He gives Arthur a sleepy smile – Arthur feels warm all over again – and then his expression changes to panic. He tries to move away, but Arthur doesn’t want that, so he rolls over on top of him to make sure Merlin doesn’t leave. 

“I don’t want you to die,” Arthur tells Merlin. 

“What?” Merlin asks, sounding baffled. His face is flushed and he looks wild about the eyes. Arthur thinks they are just in time.

“The smugglers. They said you can die if you don’t have your cock touched for a while,” Arthur says, reaching for Merlin’s breeches. 

“Arthur, no, that’s not what they meant,” Merlin says weakly. He tries to push Arthur’s hand away. 

Arthur might be a simpleton, but he’s not stupid. He sees the look that's always in Merlin’s eyes when he looks at him: soft and fond and full of longing. “I want to,” Arthur says.

Merlin shudders once, throwing his arm over his eyes. “Arthur,” he says, his voice trembling.

Arthur unlaces Merlin’s breeches to take out his cock, thick and hot in his hand. Arthur skims his fingers along it, learning its shape. He strokes Merlin carefully, remembering how he likes it himself, a dim memory of his own hand on him in the early morning. It falls naturally to him, like the way he remembers how to hold a sword, although he doesn’t remember where or how he learned it. 

He wraps his hand around Merlin’s cock, speeding up when Merlin starts writhing underneath him. Merlin’s breath starts coming in sharp gasps, the tip beading with precome, and Arthur smears his thumb along the head, remembering how good it feels. Arthur grunts a little, feeling his own cock rise and tighten. He wonders if maybe Merlin is contagious and now he could die too, but Merlin is here, Merlin will take care of him, always, and Arthur will do the same because he promised Merlin that he would do better. 

When Merlin comes, he says _Arthur_ in a voice that it almost hurts to hear.

“Can I?” Merlin asks after a quiet, close moment, resting his hand in front of Arthur’s breeches.

“Please,” Arthur says. “Thank you.”

* * *

**61**

**From the Ashes**

The acrid scent of smoke coats Arthur’s throat as they stand on the edge of the Burning Lands. The bleak scarred landscape stretches to the horizon, where distant volcanic peaks spill constant clouds of ash into Earth’s ruined atmosphere.

The two men work in efficient silence. The sooner they get their samples collected, the sooner they can start the return journey to the compound. It’s only been a few days, but already Arthur is longing to see a tree, some grass, a living creature other than his companion.

***

The day they were introduced by the team leader at Unit Epsilon, Phoenix had held Arthur’s hand a little too long and stared at him intently.

“Found you at last.” His dark blue eyes seemed to reach into Arthur’s soul, seeking some connection. 

“I’m sorry... have we met before?” Arthur had frowned, disconcerted, his hand trapped in the tight grip of slender fingers. 

Phoenix smiled, the slice of his cheekbones eliciting a brush of distant memory, skin pale against the bitter coal-black of his hair. “My mistake.” His lips lifted at the corners, but his eyes told another story.

***

Arthur’s gaze is drawn to Phoenix as they work. His dark head bent in concentration, pale long-fingered hands carefully tipping dust samples into bags. Arthur suddenly remembers a recent dream, lost on waking but now thrown back into sharp focus by the sight of those hands.

_Bone-white fingers entwine with Arthur’s as he presses them down into a mattress. Flickering candlelight paints delicate shadows on a lean body, taut beneath his own. Blue-black eyes stare up at him and bony hips lift to meet the slick, insistent slide of his erection as Arthur teases, wanting to hear him plead again._

Arthur gasps, dropping the soil sample he’s holding. 

Phoenix turns to look at him curiously. “You okay?” And Arthur’s face burns hot, like the uninhabitable land around them, as he licks his lips and swallows hard.

“Fine,” he mutters. “Just clumsy.” He watches as Phoenix straightens up and moves to a new location. His eyes trace over the slim hips and straight shoulders; the tight, high curve of buttocks over long legs.

_Arthur’s hands splay lean limbs wide as he moves down to take a flushed, swollen cock in his mouth. His tongue traces delicately around the foreskin, tasting sweet-salt and musk. Arthur’s fingers, slippery with oil, press carefully into tight, willing heat; probing and searching, then finding the place that makes his lover writhe and whimper. He looks up to see the desperate flush on those pale cheeks, dark hair tangled from his hands and damp with sweat, lips bitten-pink and wet. “Please, Arthur.”_

The muffled sound of an explosion, like the rumble of far-off thunder, brings him back to the present. 

“Look,” Phoenix points and Arthur moves to stand beside him. A volcano is erupting in the far distance, belching new clouds of dark smoke into the air. 

As they watch, the sun edges below the almost-permanent cloud cover and casts tentative rays of golden-orange light on the ravaged landscape, as though unsure of its welcome. Arthur meets Phoenix’s eyes and sees the gold reflected there. 

_Legs wrap tight around his waist, drawing him in, urging him on as he loses himself in the body beneath him. Arthur’s lips taste the salty tang of sweat as he licks and bites, sucking angry purple marks into flawless skin. Sweaty skin slips as they rut together, the tension crackling around them like something tangible. Arthur lifts his head, because he never tires of seeing his lover’s eyes when he comes. “God, Merlin!” Murky blue flares gold as they clutch each other and their bodies tense and pulse and spill. Arthur cries out as his climax rips through him like a tidal wave of destruction, tearing him apart and rebuilding him in that fleeting, endless-seeming moment of ecstasy._

Arthur stares at his companion. 

“Merlin?” His voice is barely more than a whisper, like smoke on the wind. He waits, breathless. Then Phoenix reaches out his hands and pulls Arthur to him. 

The kiss is real, but it feels like a dream. So familiar, yet not. Phoenix tastes of smoke and dust. But the soft brush of his lips and the curl of his tongue are like a spark to tinder, and the heat they ignite is like nothing Arthur has ever felt. 

“You remembered.” Phoenix’s smile is radiant as he pulls away. “Here we are again, Arthur. Risen from the ashes.”

* * *

**62**

They’re barricaded in their apartment. Merlin tried to convince Arthur to leave the city a month ago, when the assembly was voting on martial law. He’d wanted to go upstate. His mother’s farm has its own water supply and years’ worth of food in the pantry from her compulsive canning. Arthur hadn’t believed that there could be food rationing, or that utilities might be cut off. He had faith in the system. Merlin only had faith in Arthur.

Gwaine laughed at Merlin’s zombie survival kit, back when he first started building it. Merlin had joked that he was just playing along with the CDC and spent years putting everything together. What he didn’t tell Gwaine, or any of his friends really, was that he couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that something terrible was coming. He’d known that he had to be prepared, that the fate of the world rested on his being ready. He hadn’t wanted them to think he was crazy, they would have made him stop.

Merlin knew that the drought and the rising seas and the riots were only going to get worse as long as the people in power cared more about their pocketbooks then in their constituents. Not that anyone would have much in their pocketbooks soon.

Now he’s just exhausted. He’s not had a solid eight hours of sleep in weeks, every noise outside makes him wish he’d gone ahead and bought a couple of guns. Arthur had tried to get the others to move in with them, but no one had thought it would get this bad so fast. He doesn’t know what happened to everyone. He can’t sleep knowing there’s too many holes in their defense. It wrecks him that he’ll never know if it would have been better with more people to take shifts.

Arthur finds him curled up by the back door cradling a machete he bought on Amazon. Arthur pulls him down the hall towards Arthur's room. They can’t go to Merlin’s. He’s pulled all the books off the shelves trying to memorize how to irrigate a field and how to forage for plants, in case he can’t take anything with him when they finally have to leave.

He and Arthur have always just been friends, never gone past making out due to Elena’s instigating at parties, but right now, Merlin needs something. When Arthur pushes Merlin down on the bed, Merlin grabs Arthur’s arm to pull him in.

Merlin has to know that he’s still alive, that there’s still something to fight for. He kisses Arthur hard and desperate, and feels some of the tension he’s been carrying disappear when Arthur grabs his hair and kisses him back.

There’s too many hands and angles and need to get things right immediately, but eventually, Merlin’s got Arthur naked and on his back, and he’s digging condoms and lube out of the nightstand. He pours the lube on his hand and Arthur’s cock has two fingers in himself just to get the slick up there and he’s sinking down on Arthur as fast as he can without hurting himself, breathing past the burn, feeling alive again.

Arthur’s got one hand on his ass and one hand on his cock, and he’s stroking Merlin to match Merlin’s rhythm as he rides Arthur slow at first while the lube finally spreads enough to do it’s job and make everything smooth and easy, then harder. Merlin’s got his head tossed back. He’s found the perfect angle and thinks he could come just from this, but Arthur’s hand is tight on his cock, so he’ll never know. Merlin can’t stop the rush of words that are coming from his mouth, but even he can’t tell what he’s saying, but he means, yes, and more, and please. Arthur comes with a shout and Merlin’s name on his lips.

When Merlin comes, he feels a lifetime of memories unspool behind his eyes in a golden rush, and he finally understands why he’s always felt the burden of saving the world. He didn’t need a survival kit. He needed Arthur all along. Tonight, he can sleep. Tomorrow, everything changes.

* * *

**63**

The world falls apart.

*

**Day One**

Arthur's heart pounds in his chest, his hands tight on the wheel as he swerves around falling rubble and crying people with vacant-looking eyes. He slams on breaks and curses wildly as a woman runs in front of him, tear tracks on her dirty cheeks.

"My son," she screams at him. "Where is my son?"

Arthur shakes his head, throat tightening at the despair on her face. She turns and runs away again, stumbling over broken concrete.

"Merlin," Arthur whispers, and has never been so fucking scared in all of his life.

*

**Day Five**

Merlin stares out the window, arms tight around his stomach. He feels sick, watching what's left of the world crash down. He feels Arthur step up behind him, leans back against his warm, familiar chest.

"Ready?"

Merlin can't form the one word necessary, can't say _yes_ even though he knows he has to. He'll never be ready to leave their home, but the world has gone to hell and he would follow Arthur anywhere, so he just nods and twists around to press his mouth to Arthur's, kissing him with so much desperation he thinks he'll drown in it.

*

**Day Thirty-Seven**

Arthur crouches down low behind the brick wall, the gun he'd stolen from an abandoned home clutched tightly in one hand. He doesn't really know how to use it, but he's been learning fast enough. It's necessary; they've been attacked no less than four times in the past month, and they can't stay unprotected.

Merlin is beside him, another gun in his hands. There's a Tescos just around the corner, the glass windows busted out and the shelves mostly raided. Whatever food is left will be their first meal in at least three days.

"Ready?"

Arthur nods, and they run.

*

**Day Fifty-Four**

They're on the run.

The building in front of them is half crumbled, bricks strewn everywhere, the front door hanging half off the hinges. They climb through, Arthur first and Merlin just behind.

The building is empty, and when they find a dirty mattress on the floor of one room they flip it over and sleep as though they're dead.

*

**Day Fifty-Six**

Arthur fucks him, hard and fast and desperate, fingers clutching at his hips as he pulls Merlin back against him. Merlin's face is pressed against the mattress, nails digging into the torn fabric, low, broken sounds echoing from this throat.

They don't get to do this much anymore, but Merlin needs it, they both need it, and a strangled cry catches in his chest as Arthur buries one hand in his hair and pulls his head up. He leans over and kisses him, wet and open, tongues twisting and chasing and sliding together.

When Merlin comes it's almost painful, Arthur fucking him through it. He keeps going, pounding him down until he's flat on the mattress, boneless, eyes closed as he enjoys the aftershocks. It doesn't take Arthur long, shoving in as far as he can as he comes, dick pulsing as he fills Merlin with his release.

*

**Day Ninety-One**

They meet Gwaine, Elena, Gwen, and Lance when the small group saves them from the Peacekeepers appointed by the New World Republic.

"It's not much," Gwen says, opening a door that leads to an actual bedroom, with an actual bed. "But you're safer down here than up there in the open.

"Are you kidding?" Arthur says, tangling his fingers with Merlin's. "It's perfect."

*

**Day Three-Hundred Seventeen**

Word from above is that a war is brewing. Arthur wants to fight, and Merlin knows he'll fight along with him, until the very end. His magic burns in his veins, and the way Arthur looks at him tells him that he knows.

They've made a home here, somehow, in these underground bunkers and tunnels. Their saviors have become not just their friends but their family, and things aren't the same but they're happy.

"Ready?" Arthur asks, and Merlin nods.

He's ready for anything, as long as he has Arthur by his side.

* * *

**64**

Merlin orders everyone to keep it from Arthur, but it’s no surprise when the king shows up on his doorstep. “Leon says Morgana enchanted you,” he starts, arms crossed, scowl in place.

“I’ll fix it faster if you leave me be.” Merlin turns away, leaves the door open for Arthur to come in since he’ll do it anyway.

“He wouldn’t tell me more, but Gwaine did. He said you’ll die if I don’t ...” Arthur gusts out a sigh. “Would you _look at me_?”

“No.” If Merlin doesn’t get what he most desires by sunset, he’ll die. And what he most desires--what he’s always desired--is Arthur’s love, and this is the closest approximation the curse can require. How could he possibly meet Arthur’s eyes? “I’ll find another way..”

“You don’t need to.”

That’s Morgana’s plan. To poison Merlin’s most secret desire by letting him have it because Arthur feels obligated by duty or friendship. “Arthur--”

“Merlin.” Merlin dares a glance to see Arthur using the same expression he uses whenever he’s about to do something noble and self-sacrificing for Merlin. It’s a very specific expression, and means he’s going to be stubborn. “Please. Let me do this for you. It won’t hurt us.”

He will never, never be strong enough to say no to Arthur, not when Merlin wants it so badly that it’s going to kill him. “There are potions,” he says, hating this, hating himself. “That can make you … want me. For a little while.”

“I don’t need them.” Merlin chokes out a laugh, shakes his head. “I don’t know what you’re thinking, but this isn’t a hardship. I promise. Say yes.” Arthur pauses. “Or if you say no, don’t do it for my sake.”

The humiliation burns Merlin’s throat. “Don’t pity me, I won’t--”

“We have two hours till sunset,” Arthur interrupts. “That’s not long. Let’s just do it, and we can talk after, you can blather about pride and pity until you go blue, but you’ve got to be alive.”

Merlin swallows and turns away to grapple his shirt off. “Okay.”

“Merlin.” Arthur’s voice is so gentle it _hurts_. “At least in your bed.”

That’s practical, even if it will be harder to keep his barriers up with Arthur treating him like a lover. Merlin slips into his bedroom and strips there, ignoring the way Arthur trails after him and the unhappy noise he makes when Merlin flops belly-down in his bed and holds out the bottle of oil he keeps under his pillow. “Come on.”

“Don’t be a martyr. Turn over.” He can’t yield on this, knows he won’t be able to stand the absent look on Arthur’s face while he drives his cock inside Merlin and thinks of someone else, so he stays where he is and listens to the sigh and rustle of cloth that means Arthur’s stripping too. A minute later, there’s a hand at Merlin’s shoulder, and Merlin shrugs it off, then throws it off with magic when Arthur tries again. “I want to see your face,” whispers Arthur, and Merlin was always going to give him everything, wasn’t he?

Every time Merlin tries another measure to guard his heart, Arthur ruins it. He captures Merlin’s lips and kisses him gently, he runs his hands down Merlin’s sides, he smiles every time Merlin touches him and ignores Merlin’s pleas to go rougher, faster, to get it _over_ with. He’s expert stretching Merlin open, and he’s patient when Merlin needs to adjust, and, most devastatingly, when Arthur fucks him just as well as Merlin always knew he would, his eyes stay locked on Merlin’s the whole time.

Arthur spends first and pulls Merlin into his lap to finish him, Merlin squirming and gasping until he comes with a wordless shout that was almost Arthur’s name. They stay close, breathing hard, as Merlin checks to make sure Morgana’s spell is gone. “Okay?” Arthur asks after a minute, and Merlin nods, mute. “We should--”

 _Talk,_ he’s going to say, and Merlin can’t bear Arthur’s pity with Arthur’s come still drying inside him. “No,” he says, high and panicky, and clutches at Arthur’s shoulder, wanting him to understand and wishing he wouldn’t.

After a second, Arthur wraps around him, tentative but strong, and Merlin doesn’t understand the catch in his voice when he says “We’ll wait. We’ve got time.”

* * *

**65**

Arthur woke to the sound of moaning and the bed shaking from his partner’s tossing and turning in disturbed slumber. Rolling over on his side, he glanced at the clock over Merlin’s shoulder and added a moan of his own. Two o’clock in the bloody morning! _Well, _he thought with a sleepy sigh. _At least it’s the weekend.___

He reached over and gently shook Merlin’s shoulder, hoping to wake him out of whatever strangeness was plaguing his sleep. He wasn’t prepared for Merlin to scream his name in panic and flail so hard that he knocked Arthur in the head. 

“Ow!” Arthur exclaimed. “Damn it, Merlin! Wake up!”

With a sharp gasp, Merlin sat bolt upright, looking frantically around the room. His wide eyes came to rest on Arthur and Arthur was surprised to see them well up with tears. “Oh, thank God!” Merlin gasped, reaching for Arthur and clinging as though his life depended on it.

“Merlin!” Arthur said, exasperated, looking down on the dark head that was trying to burrow into his chest. “What on Earth -- _Mer_ lin!”

Arthur was starting to get a little concerned. Merlin wouldn’t look at him and his whole body was trembling. Whatever he’d been dreaming had obviously affected him badly. Arthur started rubbing his hand soothingly along Merlin’s back. Before long, he could hear Merlin mumbling. Straining a little, he could barely make out words.

“Zombies...Whole world had ended...everything destroyed.... Then -- Then -- You...and chasing...and...and... OH MY GOD! THEY WERE EATING --” Merlin cut himself off with a gasping sob and tried to burrow deeper into Arthur’s chest. Arthur glanced down and was caught in the bright blue of Merlin’s panicked gaze, and he could tell that his lover was still caught up in his nightmare. 

“Easy, love,” Arthur soothed, kissing the top of Merlin’s head. “I’m right here.” He rolled his eyes and couldn’t quite believe he was saying this. “The zombies didn’t get me.”

“Arthur?” Merlin whispered and then surged forward, crushing his mouth to Arthur’s. The kiss was rough, desperate, needy, and Arthur was caught completely by surprise when he felt Merlin’s hand trail down his body and wrap around his half-hard cock, stroking with obvious intent.

“Merlin?” Arthur breathed into the mouth that was firmly attached to his own. 

Merlin pulled back and buried his face against Arthur’s neck, licking and kissing at whatever skin he could reach. “Alive,” he whimpered. “You’re alive. Arthur, please -- Need -- Please...”

Arthur closed his eyes. He could hear the desperation in Merlin’s voice, and who was he to deny his partner comfort? “Yesss,” he hissed as Merlin jerked his cock. 

Merlin scrambled around until he straddled Arthur’s hip and then sank straight down, still open and loose from their earlier coupling, taking Arthur in all at one shot. After that, it was a blur of Merlin riding him rough, hard, and fast. Arthur reached out to help Merlin along, only to discover that his lover wasn’t more then half-hard.

Merlin batted his hand away. “No,” he panted. “Not going to.”

“But --” Arthur protested.

“Don’t care,” Merlin growled, speeding the rhythm of his hips. “Just want to -- want to feel --”

And then Arthur was beyond arguing as his orgasm hit him hard; and he arched his back, burying himself as deep as he could as he came with a shout.

~*~*~

Later, Arthur lay on his back with Merlin’s head on his shoulder, listening to the sounds of Merlin’s even breathing. As his eyes slipped closed, Merlin’s voice broke the silence. “You know,” he said with a yawn. “My dream wasn’t _all_ bad.”

Arthur blinked and grunted out an “oh?”

“Yeah,” Merlin said softly. “See, there was also these really adorable kittens. Well,” he paused, considering. “I mean, they were adorable if you think zombie kittens are, you know, _‘adorable’_.”

Arthur snorted. _Only Merlin,_ he thought fondly. 

“That’s not the best part, though.” Merlin paused expectantly. Arthur’s sleep “hmmmm?” must have been enough because Merlin said, “No. The best part? They were fucking! Can you believe that? Fucking zombie kittens!”

Arthur stared at the top of Merlin’s head, dumbfounded. He could feel the curl of his lover’s smile against his chest and Merlin’s body trembled against him with laughter. With an amused snort and a smile, Arthur groaned, “You’re mind is a very strange and scary place, Merlin,” and he settled back down to sleep.

* * *

**66**

Arthur’s dick was on fire. Not literally, but all things considered, fire may have hurt less than the erection he was currently sporting. He grumbled and folded his arms across his chest mulishly, not caring if he came across as childish. “I don’t think the ‘professional’ who saw us was a real doctor. I mean, how is telling someone they have to ‘Fuck or Die’ medically sound?”

Merlin rolled his eyes. “The doctor didn’t actually say ‘Fuck or Die.’ He said he wanted you to try another orgasm before something more invasive.” Arthur wanted to punch Merlin in the balls for his overly patient tone of voice; _his_ dick wasn’t the one suffering from a six-hour erection.

“But I’ve _had_ an orgasm! _Three_ , if you’ll recall!” Arthur lifted up his medical gown and pointed at his penis. “Look at it! It’s purple! It’s not supposed to be purple, Merlin! It’s obviously going to fall off—“

“Your dick isn’t going to _fall off_ , Arthur.”

“That’s not what the doctor implied! This is entirely your fault for manipulating me into taking Viagra. ‘ _It’ll be fun, Arthur!_ ” He mimicked and then pointed at his crotch. “Does this look fun to you!”

Merlin winced and looked at the erection in question. “Maybe if I used my mouth?”

Arthur scrubbed his face and groaned. “I’d rather you do nothing at all, but seeing as how it’ll _fall off_ if I don’t come again, your mouth will have to do.” 

“So glad I could be of service, my Lord,” Merlin responded, flip. He was careful to avoid Arthur’s IV when climbing on the bed and straddled his knees. “Let me know if this gets too painful, yeah?” Arthur nodded and Merlin leaned forward to give a tentative lick.

It fucking _burned_. The heat of Merlin’s tongue licking at the head of his pained prick was too much, and Arthur hissed and pulled away. Merlin looked up, alarmed. 

“Sorry,” Arthur said. “Sensitive – need a moment.” He focused on his breath to calm himself and closed his eyes. “Okay. Let’s try again.”

The second time Merlin’s lips kissed his erection it was still painful, but definitely bearable. Merlin kept the pressure of his tongue light and quick, and used his fingers to squeeze Arthur’s arse to distract him from the painful ache of his cock. 

Merlin’s thumbs caressed the juncture where Arthur’s thighs met his groin and hummed around his erection while he pushed his thumbs in harder, drawing the pain from his prick and turning it into pleasure elsewhere. Arthur moaned his appreciation and reached under his hospital gown to pinch his nipples, utilizing Merlin’s idea of pain elsewhere as a distraction. 

The too-sensitive ache of his erection faded. Magic fingers and a sinful tongue made him forget the circumstances of his impromptu hospital visit. Merlin pulled off his cock with a pop, and then dove back down to deep throat him. The sound alone made his gut twist with arousal. It was messy and wet, and sounded filthy and obscene. When Arthur looked down, Merlin’s lips looked bruised and his cheeks hollow. The sight of it punched his heart, his sudden need for Merlin terrifying in its intensity.

He felt flushed and sweaty, certain the room’s temperature had increased ten degrees. Merlin’s finger rubbed at the rim of his arsehole, dry and rough as it pushed in. The combination of Merlin’s mouth, finger, visage, and _love_ were like the four fucking horsemen of the apocalypse, announcing the end of his world. He could feel his body’s surrender, and his balls draw up, signaling the end.

When Merlin’s finger brushed his prostate, the universe fucking _shifted_ , and everything went sideways for a moment as he came. He felt like he had just been launched into space and crashed violently back into his body, pain and pressure subsiding, his cock throbbing with relief, finally softening. 

When he opened his eyes, Merlin’s smug grin greeted him. The pleasure of release was still skittering up and down his spine, so he refrained from punching the look off his face. He groaned and rolled his eyes, however. “If you think an ace blowjob negates the fact that you broke my knob, think again.” 

Merlin bit his lip, feigning chastisement. “So…does this mean you’re not interested in trying-–“ Arthur lifted his legs to knock Merlin to the floor. “Oi! Okay! I’m sorry!”

“Too fucking right, you are. Viagra _indeed_.” Arthur closed his eyes and smiled, finally sated.

* * *

**67**

Arthur still dreams of that last day, on the rare occasions he finds somewhere safe enough to sleep. He’s forgotten her face. He thinks her hair was dark, but it is so hard to remember in a world where everything is dark. He remembers her eyes, though, golden and burning as she shouted words that destroyed the sun and everything that ever mattered… or once mattered, because now he cannot remember any of it. His mind is a blank.  
He has been traveling without sleep for days when he meets the other man on the road. It has been so long since Arthur has seen anyone else that he knows he must be dreaming, especially since the man’s face reminds him of her’s… Morgana. Oh God, Morgana. He can barely remember his own name, and certainly no one else’s, but now, for whatever reason, he remembers Morgana. 

The man has her eyes, too, that glowing gold. At one point Arthur would have been afraid of them, but now they just intrigue him. He reaches out and touches the man’s face, and the man lets him, with a sad sort of smile. Arthur knows there is something more in that smile. He leans forward and presses his lips against the other man’s, trying to find it. The man lets him do that, too.

“Ar…” the man begins. Arthur quiets him with another kiss. It hurts more than he expected to hear the man’s voice, maybe because he is so unused to the sound, and maybe because the voice is familiar, a knife to his heart. So he kisses, and touches, running his hands under the other man’s clothes and pulling him down to the ground, right there on the side of the road. There is no one to see them there anyway. As far as Arthur knows, it could be just the two of them left in the whole world.

The man is panting now as Arthur peels off his tattered clothes, reveals the pale flesh beneath. Everything is pale here, and Arthur thinks this man fits in well with the rest of the world. He belongs here. Arthur does not.

“Oh, Arthur,” the man breathes, and Arthur flinches back.

“No,” he says, using his voice for the first time in what seems like years. “Please, don’t.”

He doesn’t say what, but the man understands. He falls silent. Arthur bows his head again and continues with his task, until the man is laid naked before him. He is beautiful, Arthur thinks. The only beautiful thing left.

There is something addictive about the taste of the man’s flesh as Arthur drags his lips over it, kissing, biting, marking every inch. As he moves lower the man’s cock grows harder, and this is familiar too, and Arthur takes it in his mouth without a moment’s thought. This is right. Finally, something makes sense.

The man groans. “Arthur,” he breathes, but it is only a breath, and Arthur cannot fault the man for breathing, so he ignores it and continues down the man’s body until he finds that little starburst of flesh, so incredible he has to kiss it, lave at it with his tongue until it opens for him. Welcoming him home, Arthur thinks, and before he can fully realize what he is thinking his own trousers are down and he is sinking into the softest, most wonderful thing he has ever felt. But he’s felt it before, he realizes, and in an instant it all comes rushing back.

“Merlin,” he gasps, “Oh, god, Merlin, _Merlin_ , I thought you were dead, I thought…”

“Shh, it’s all right, I know.” Merlin reaches up and caresses Arthur’s face, and Arthur has to laugh at how ridiculous it all is, even when Merlin’s hand comes away wet with tears. “My king.”  
 _King of what?_ Arthur nearly asks, _King of a wasteland? A Camelot that never was, except in your head, you crazy, incredible sorcerer?_ , but he knows it will upset Merlin, that he could not stop Morgana’s rage, that everything was gone but them, so instead he thrusts his hips and gives Merlin the only thing he can – for just a little while, he makes Merlin forget.

* * *

**68**

Title: The last three human words 1/2

Merlin felt Arthur's arms wrap around his waist and he took another shuddering breathe.

"Don't cry now love." Arthur whispered against his neck and pressed a soft kiss there. 

Merlin turned around in his arms and pressed his face to the side of Arthur's neck, breathing him in, deep into his lunges so he will never forget.

"Arthur…" He whispered softly and kissed his cheek.

"I know." Arthur whispered back and his grip tightened as he pressed his lips to Merlin's, hard and desperate.

Merlin closed his eyes tightly and kissed back, willing the tears not to fall, not yet, not now.

Arthur's hands tugged at the edge of his shirt and Merlin lifted his own, allowing Arthur to remove it. Arthur smoothed his hands over Merlin's chest, again and again like he couldn't get enough, will never get enough.

"Merlin…" His voice broke just a fraction as he pulled Merlin closer, tugging on his waist band.

Merlin complied and took off his pants while Arthur u _ndressed himself._

 _"Our sun," The news said. "Is growing faster_ than we expected …"

They pressed together again, pressing every inch of skin they could to the other, hands caressing skin over and over again, pressing kisses and markers to whatever patch they could.

"Gods, Merlin…" Arthur said against his lips and Merlin chocked back a cry, his hands tightening around Arthur's neck and his legs wrapping themselves around his waist as he carried him up the s _tairs to their bedroom._

 _"I'm sorry my boy," Gaius's voice was grave and serious. "The_ re is nothing you can do."

Arthur laid him down on the bed and stood back to stare at him, his eyes racking over Merlin's naked form, intense and glittering. "I could never," He started and took a step closer. "I can't stop looking at you M, I can't, I could never get enough, do you get that?"

He climbed on the bed and pressed himself closer to Merlin who grabbed him hard and pressed closer, trying to meld their bodies into one.

"Never enough M, not enough." Arthur whispered as he pressed kisses to Merlin's face and neck and chest. Merlin's fingers curled in Arthur's hair and pulled him up again.

"No, not today, I want, I need to see you, all the time Arthur, always." Merlin said and one tear escaped, Arthur licked it from his cheek and buried his face in Merlin's hair, breathing in and raising his face to stare at Merlin's golden eyes when Merlin whispered the spell and slicked himself. 

"Your eyes…" He said and his finger pressed against Merlin's hole. "Have I ever told you how lovely your eyes are like that? All golden and shining?" Merlin's breath hitched and he nodded, more tears escaping as Arthur's fingers spread him open.

"It's not enough though." Merlin whispered back and Arthur kissed him, their teeth clicking to _gether._

 _"I tried Morgana," Merlin said and Morgan nodded once and walked away, Gwen's hand clutched tightly in_ her hand.

"Ready?" Arthur whispered and pressed another kiss to Merlin's mouth, gentle and adoring.

"Always." Merlin whispered back and kept his eyes open, needing to see Arthur when he pressed in.

Arthur's eyes were pools of glistening blue as he stared at Merlin while he pressed in and out, slow, steady, savoring the feeling of being together, as close to one another as can be.

Merlin knew he was crying but there was nothing he could do about it and Arthur closed his eyes for a moment before he kissed him again, the speed moving up, fa _ster now, harder._

 _"We will see you again," Morgana's voice was cheerful and Arthur knew she was crying. "You won't get read of me that easily brother." Arthur smiled. "I know." He said and heard Morgana's sniffle. "Take care of him Arthur." Arthur swal_ lowed hard. "Always."

"Arthur…" Merlin's breath hitched and Arthur pressed harder, his hands gripping Merlin's, their wedding bands knocking together and glinting gold in the sun. 

"Merlin…" Arthur whispered and pressed another kiss to his mouth, his cheek, his eyelids, everywhere he could, he will never get enough.

"Arthur I-" Merlin started to say before his eyes closed and he came, his muscles gripping Arthur's cock hard and wrenching his own climax out of him.

The sun was shining brighter now and Arthur knew it was coming, Merlin's tear-filled eyes showed he knew it too.

"I love you Merlin." Arthur said with a kiss before the wave hit them.

"I love you."

* * *

**69**

The world ends quietly.

Balinor always thought that the end of humanity would be a chaotic one—fire, lightning, earthquakes, screaming—but instead everyone around him falls into a deep sleep seemingly as one and simply never wake up.

He has no idea if the same thing has happened worldwide, but given that his magic can’t sense anyone else, Balinor can assume that’s likely. He searches for other signs of human life near daily, but all he ever passes are more bodies in the same deep sleep as everyone else. The city falls into ruin almost overnight, and Balinor slowly comes to terms with the fact that he seems to be the only person left.

He wonders if his magic is the reason he’s still alive, and at first Balinor hates it, wants to rip it out of himself for keeping him awake when everyone he knows is now as good as dead, but in the end, he knows he never will. His magic is a part of him, and though he now hates his existence, all he can do is try and move on with his life.

Not that there’s much of a life left to be had. No matter how many spells he sends out searching for other people, no matter how far he walks, there’s never anyone else.

Where humanity has stopped, plant and animal life thrives, and it only takes a year before the city of Armagh can be considered a veritable jungle.

And still, Balinor can find no one else. The loneliness is slowly driving him insane, of that he is acutely aware, but he still fights to hold onto what makes him human: he still wears clothes, he still bathes, and he still brushes his teeth.

But he stops shaving, for the most part, lets his beard grow, and he doesn’t bother talking to fill in the silence, letting his voice grow hoarse from misuse.

As the years pass, Balinor begins travelling beyond Armagh, searching ever further, even though he’s long since given up hope of ever finding anyone else.

Seven years to the day the world fell silent, he finds Hunith.

Balinor had to travel all the way to London to find her, and she’s beautiful. She accepts his magic without question, accepts _him_ , and Balinor thinks he might be in love with her.

She asks him to stay, and only then does Balinor realise just how much he’s missed having human company. Hunith is like a breath of fresh air, and as time passes, he only falls more and more in love with her; her smile, her laugh, her temperament.

She makes the first move, to his surprise, climbing into his bed one night and whispering that she wants him. Balinor is only a man, and it’s impossible to resist her.

The two of them move together, her on his lap, Balinor thrusting up into her, feeling her around him, warm and wet and just like heaven. She comes with a quiet gasp of pleasure, and Balinor can’t stop himself from letting go as he clings to her almost desperately.

When their son Merlin is born several years later, Balinor’s magic still hasn’t found any other signs of human life, but then, he and Hunith haven’t gone looking since they found each other. But Merlin might one day, Balinor thinks, when he hears the story of how far his father travelled to find his mother, and for the first time in a long time Balinor has hope that the three of them aren’t the only people left in the world.

Maybe, when he’s much older, Merlin will eventually find his soulmate, too.

* * *

**70**

For Camelot  
\---  
“I have to what?”

“Copulate, sire.”

Arthur continued to stare at Gaius, shaking his head. “Why? With whom? When?” He spun on his heel to start pacing again.

Gaius cocked his head. “I believe the spell implied Camelot’s falling to the quakes but there was no time frame nor stipulations. However, I would suggest it be taken care of very soon. I don’t know how much more we can endure. The shakes continue to worsen, sire.”

Arthur nodded, staring at the stones beneath his feet as his mind flew. He could feel himself starting to flush. “I will take care of it as soon as I can and hope the curse is lifted. If that is all?” Gaius nodded and left, not even leaving Merlin who had apparently been out helping in town all morning.

What had that witch been thinking, dooming Camelot unless Arthur took someone to his bed? How had she known he didn’t have someone every night? The thought made him shudder. Well, it couldn’t be helped now. He’d have to find someone, besides the someone he wanted anyway. A maid would do surely.

He’d just stepped into the hall when his intentions caught up to him and he found he couldn’t stomach the thought. Retreating to his room, he sat in front of the fire to weigh his options. Obviously he would have to get it over and done with, but using someone that way…He shook his head. He’d have to do something no matter what. And he should be out helping in the aftermath of the latest quake too. Instead he was holed up like a scared rabbit.

“Arthur, lunch.” Merlin’s sudden appearance nearly made him jump but he pushed the reaction down until it was just more jittering nonsense in his head. “And some news.” Merlin sat everything down with ease, seeming not to notice how tense Arthur was. “We lost one this morning, and a few pigs but everyone else is safe. They’re fortifying their homes and moving inside the castle walls. The knights-”

“What should I do, Merlin?”

There was a brief moment when he thought Merlin would pretend to misunderstand but thankfully, he didn’t. “Nothing you don’t want to.”

“For Camelot?” Arthur looked up to see Merlin watching him.

“For your own piece of mind, maybe. You can’t…Arthur, don’t rush into this. They can survive a couple days while you sort it out.”

Arthur laughed humorlessly. “What should I do, Merlin?” He wasn’t blind. He knew he relied on Merlin more than he should, wanted him around, wanted…wanted…everything.

Merlin bit his lip and searched Arthur’s face. Arthur hoped whatever he was looking for was there because everything else seemed to be and he had no idea where else it could be. But Merlin slowly straddled his lap and it took Arthur a moment to let himself breathe as Merlin settled, Arthur’s hands naturally going to his hips.

Merlin gave him a shy glance. “Nothing you don’t want to,” he repeated. 

Arthur felt as though he could come apart at the seams and not care. He tangled a hand in Merlin’s hair and crushed their mouths together on a gasp.

Softly, “For Camelot?”

“For my sanity.” He licked at sharp clavicles as Merlin tried to push Arthur’s shirt away. Arthur caught his hands and brought them back to his shoulders, biting at the tendons in his wrists.

Merlin wriggled and the next few minutes became a blur until Arthur realized his breeches were open and Merlin’s had somehow been pushed off entirely. He didn’t ask, far too preoccupied with Merlin sucking on his fingers and leading his hand around to push inside him with only a split-second hesitation.

On Merlin’s sharp inhale Arthur slowed, the frenzy dying back as he realized he had Merlin _straddling his lap_. “Alright?” Merlin asked, even as he rocked on Arthur’s fingers.

Arthur lost another few minutes in the haze until suddenly Merlin was sinking onto his cock and, shit when had that happened? Merlin took over then. Hell he’d been in control all along, and Arthur could only hold on as they hurtled toward some cliff he hadn’t known existed before he was swallowed in white.

He collapsed into his chair with Merlin curled up against his chest. His cock twitched in immediate interest. “How many times did the spell say?” Merlin blinked at him. “Perhaps we should be sure we did it correctly.”

Merlin smiled and laughed into his neck. “Of course, sire."

* * *

**71**

~~~~~

"I know that you want!" Prince Arthur cried.

The Cailleach blinked. "Do you?"

"I am prepared to pay whatever price is necessary."

When Prince Arthur hit the ground with a thud, the Cailleach sighed. Really, these _boys_.

"So, Emrys," she murmured, eyeing the two who were left, "what did that youngling Gaius tell you this time? A unicorn's hoof? Dew gathered on a mountaintop at dawn on Samhain?"

"A blood sacrifice," Emrys declared, chin jutting out in anger.

 _Dear me_. How ridiculous these Roman educations could be.

"I am the goddess of winter," she replied flatly. "By earth and stone, why would I need another life? I collect thousands every year."

Emrys blinked, confused. "But then, what-?"

"But a _virgin_ sacrifice," the Cailleach purred. "Those I don't see every day."

"I'm not- not a virgin," Merlin admitted, ears going red.

The Cailleach smiled and turned, catching the eye of that handsome young knight who was trying to sneak past them. "One is enough, I think."

The knight's eyes widened.

~~~~~

The altar was rather small. Lancelot shifted, then spent several more breaths reassuring Merlin that it was _fine_ , really, he didn't need a goosedown mattress for his first time. Though the threat of the prince or Gwaine waking up did have his heart going _pitter patter_ in his chest. Or perhaps that was the sight of Merlin, shirtless, rising above him like a selkie from a dark ocean. Around them, the night air shivered with fae laughter.

"Well, this isn't awkward or anything," Merlin muttered, trying to hide his peaking nipples with one hand. "Can we take it as given that I could do better if we weren't being watched through an open portal between worlds by various unnamed dead people?"

Lancelot felt his cock begin to wilt. "Not helping."

Merlin looked down. "No, ah. I suppose not."

"But Merlin." Lancelot had to say this. He had to say this _now_ , or he would never build up the courage again. "I would have done it. For you."

 

Merlin looked puzzled.

"The veil," Lancelot explained, or tried to. "I meant to go through it. While you were distracted."

Merlin's eyes widened; he blanched. "No! No, Lancelot. You-" 

He dove down, seemingly out of words, and kissed Lancelot so fiercely it stole his breath. 

"You are not," Merlin said forcefully against Lancelot's stubbled chin, "to ever even _think_ about letting yourself die. Never. If Gwen wouldn't kill me, Arthur would, and if they both missed I'd still hate myself forever. You-" and now his nails were digging into Lancelot's shoulders, "-are not expendable. I don't know where you got that cocked up idea, but all the people who love you? Want you to live. That's kind of the way people are."

Love? Oh. _Oh._

"And would." Lancelot cleared his throat. "Would you happen to be one of those people who wants me to live?"

Merlin's blush was almost as bright as his grin.

~~~~~

"Merlin," Lancelot gasped. "Merlin!"

Sweat slicked Merlin's pale chest as he lifted himself, eyelashes fluttering in pleasure, and drove his body back down to meet Lancelot's hips, which stuttered helplessly. Merlin's mouth was a dark O, rimmed by the bitten red of his lips. Lancelot clutched at his skin, hands roving, and still he could not touch enough, hold tight enough. His cock twitched helplessly in Merlin's hot, clenching hole. It was too much, and not enough.

"Merlin," he whimpered, pleading for mercy. And Merlin gave it to him, pinning them both down to the rapidly-warming altar and rocking his hips in delicious circles.

"We could have been doing this for _ages_ ," Merlin gasped. "Ages and ages - oh!"

Lancelot didn't say he'd been saving himself for love. It felt rather foolish in hindsight.

"Please," was all he whispered, hoping Merlin understood the layers of meaning in that simple word.

He seemed to understand at least part of it, because he leaned forward, pressing his palms to Lancelot's shoulders and pinning him down, rocking faster and faster, his knees clamped to Lancelot's sides like burning brands.

"Now," Merlin hissed, "now, now, now - oh!"

Lancelot's world tightened down to the heated points where Merlin's skin touched his, then shivered loose into white that left him breathless and aching.

~~~~~

Neither of them noticed when the ~~great vagina~~ veil closed, quietly, with an air of smugness.

* * *

**72**

“You should know that this isn’t to do- I still don’t believe any of what Kilgharrah spouted,” Arthur says abruptly as soon as Merlin opens his door. It’s stupidly late (early), and Merlin had been tearing his hair out trying to find a way to Ealdor all evening.  Except everyone else had realised that the whole end of the world is nigh thing was legit, too. He couldn't exactly begrudge the train operators their chance to be at home, and even if he had a car, the roads were gridlocked. He’d never get anywhere near home.

“Okay. What are you doing here, then?”

_And not with your family, or your mates?_

They’d known each other for a while, but apart from a particularly frosty first meeting where Arthur had been an utter arse and Merlin had overestimated his level of charm, the only interaction they’d had was a few words exchanged over beers or stilted small talk while waiting for their friends to turn up. Until a couple of weeks ago, that is.

Merlin had received an email summoning him to a Professor Kilgharrah’s office, and Arthur turned up as well. Neither of them had Kilgharrah as a lecturer, but they had both soon learned that _that_ was the least weird thing about the meeting.

_Merlin stared. Arthur stared._

_Dr. Kilgharrah stared back, completely unaware of the insanity of what he’d just said._

_“Arthur and I... need to sleep with each other.”_

_“Yes, young Merlin.”_

_“Because if we don’t... the ‘balance of nature’ will be ruined, and the earth as we know it will cease to exist. That’s what you’re saying?”_

_“Yes, that’s exactly it! I can think of no reason for your confused expressions; you appear to understand me perfectly.”_

Kilgharrah had handed them both pages of text, pictures, and diagrams, even Arthur’s _family crest,_ to try to back up the story he’d just told them, referring to the apparently imminent collision of a meteor with Earth, and that he was just trying to help them _achieve their destiny_ , because they were being _stubborn_.

Merlin really had begun to wonder if it was all a ploy by Gwaine to try and get him to _just shag Arthur already, God_ before he realised _he_ was being insane for even considering it. After he and Arthur had left Kilgharrah’s office, they’d laughed it off and gone their separate ways, talking even less when they miraculously ended up sat next to each other at the pub.

Arthur rolls his eyes at Merlin, like usual, muttering something like ‘ _spell everything out’_ before stepping forward and kissing him, tangling his fingers in Merlin’s hair. Merlin stumbles backwards, letting go of the door handle and hearing it click shut, trying to decide whether to push Arthur off and demand whether he thinks he’s being funny, or pull him closer and give Merlin’s poor mind a break from having to _imagine_ this.

Arthur decides for Merlin, sliding his hands to Merlin’s shoulders and pressing him up against the wall and, oh, okay, Arthur is extremely committed to this if it is all a joke.

A very nice, thorough, _exhausting_ joke.  
  
*  
  
Arthur all but collapses on top of Merlin, resting his forehead on Merlin’s shoulder.

“Well I suppose we definitely can’t be blamed for anything, now, yeah?” Merlin says, still slightly breathless. Arthur looks at him, a slight crease between his brows.

“I told you, I don’t believe-“

“I know, I was just... ” Merlin says, trailing off and shrugging. Arthur kisses him again, so slowly and softly that Merlin’s heart nearly breaks at the knowledge that this is all they're going to get.  
  
*  
  
 _“A very good morning to everyone! It’s nice to be here, even though the weather here in London doesn’t seem to care that we just had a very near miss with the apocalypse. I think next time we'll get the scientists to triple-check their calculations...”_

Merlin’s phone rings just after his clock radio goes off, and he blinks at the ceiling for a few seconds, just... breathing. He goes to retrieve his phone from his jeans pocket, and sure enough it’s his mother, who is absolutely hysterical and demanding he comes home at once.

“Yeah, I will, Mum. Soon as.”

He looks back to Arthur, who gets up and walks past him to the kitchen, a slight smirk on his lips. Merlin narrows his eyes at him, but Arthur shakes his head with a wry smile and sets about making tea.

* * *

**73**

It’s freezing in the deserted streets of what used to be north London. Merlin’s leaning against Arthur’s car, looking so tired and broken and _human_ that it makes Arthur ache.

He shoves his phone back in his pocket and goes to Merlin, standing so their shoulders are pressed together. 

“So.”

Merlin glances at him and smiles, but it’s not his real smile, not the huge, eye-crinkling delight that had Arthur tripping over himself from the moment they met. 

“Last night on earth,” Arthur tries again, and Merlin tips his head back and laughs softly and it warms Arthur’s chest. 

“Really?” Merlin asks. “You’re giving me the last night on earth speech? ”

Arthur laughs with him, but catches Merlin’s sleeve and tugs him around to look at him. “It really is it this time,” he says. “Big showdown’s tomorrow. I don’t think I’m coming back; most people don’t, battling Lucifer.”

Arthur pauses, then can’t stop the words tumbling out. “God, Merlin, you’ve done so much for me, you’ve given so much, I just want - ”

Merlin cups his cheek and tilts Arthur’s face up to look at him, blue eyes serious and a little sad, and Arthur is, as usual, hopelessly transparent before him. Merlin leans in slowly and kisses him gently.

It’s their first kiss, but it feels like their thousandth.

“I’m yours,” Merlin whispers. “I have been, from the moment I brought you back, and Arthur,” Arthur’s eyes close; he can’t bear to have Merlin looking at him like this, not when they have so little time left, “I would not exchange a moment of it.” 

Arthur lets out a shuddering breath and tugs Merlin forward, seeking his mouth instinctively. 

“Merlin, please, I want,” is all he manages before there’s a rustle of wings, the smell of ozone, and they’re gone.

*

The motel room is cheap, but it’s clean and there’s a bed, so Arthur’s not about to complain.

“I thought you were all out of - ” he wiggles his fingers, which Merlin must understand by now is his code for weird-angel-magic-mojo. Merlin rolls his eyes and pushes Arthur down on the bed. 

“I had a little bit left.”

“And you chose to use it for this?” Arthur’s voice is teasing, but the look Merlin gives him is anything but; there’s such sadness and want in it that Arthur can’t bear it. He drags Merlin down after him and flips them, pinning Merlin underneath him and nuzzling his neck.

They spend ages just kissing, exploring the taste of each other’s mouths, hips rocking gently together. It feels like maybe it should be different - frantic and desperate - but he loves this, lying here with Merlin as if they have all the time in the world.

Minutes, hours later, Merlin sighs when Arthur pushes inside, pulling him closer with his heels on the backs of Arthur thighs, kissing his cheekbone. “Please, Arthur, please,” is all he says, and Arthur can’t deny that voice.

Before long, Merlin shoves at his shoulders until he sits back, following him up and seating himself in Arthur’s lap, Arthur still inside him. He wraps his arms around Arthur’s shoulders and starts to rock back and forwards, and Arthur catches on quickly, fucking up into Merlin in little thrusts that have Merlin panting in his ear.

And he knows, whether he lives for twenty-four more hours or twenty-four more years, he’s never going to forget the way Merlin’s eyes widen, the shocked, desperate look on his face, the way he stutters _Arthur_ when he comes. 

*

“Merlin?”

“Mmm?” Merlin stirs from his doze on Arthur’s shoulder. Arthur hesitates over the words he wants to say.

“Everyone’s told me that...that it’s my destiny to do this, that this is why I was brought back, but...what if it’s not? What if I fail? I’m just a man, I don’t have any special - ”

Merlin climbs on top of him, gazing down at him with unusual fire in his eyes.

“I spent thousands of years being taught about _destiny_ \- ” he spits the word out “- but the one thing _you’ve_ taught me is that there’s no such thing. You’re doing this because you’re a good man, because you know you can. You are doing this,” and he leans in until he’s nose-to-nose with Arthur, breathing the words against his lips, “because it is your choice.” 

And Arthur can’t do anything else but pull him in and kiss him until they both forget that the world is burning.


End file.
